Harry Potter the necromancer
by Echinops
Summary: Harry discovers he is a wizard before receiving his Hogwarts letter. His story will not be the same. AU dark Harry
1. 1 - The necromancer's house

_My first fanfiction - English is not my first language_

_Harry Potter belongs to J K Rowling_

**Harry Potter the Necromancer**

1 - The Necromancer's house

The only thing Harry could smell was the smell of thuja. Earlier, Dudley and Piers had decided to play their favourite game, hunting Harry down. Harry had then run down the street at full speed, then at the end of the road, he had turned right abruptly. At that moment, out of breath, he had spotted a hiding place. He had walked the few meters that separated him from the thuja hedge and slipped between it and the wall.

Now, panting, Harry listened. He could hear Dudley's and Piers' voices getting closer ... then going away. Harry waited, a branch was painfully pressed to his ribs but he did not dare to move it, for fear that it might give him away. He waited again until the rhythm of his breathing got back to normal. The only thing he could hear was the sound of vehicles on the expressway.

He thought things over – Dudley had been particularly tenacious that day and Harry had had to flee far away from Privet Drive – he needed a way to go back home. Either he could retrace his steps and then take Oxford Street and then Long Hill Road, or he could follow the street he was already on, then turn on Oak Lane along the expressway, then take Park Road and finally, Privet Drive. The second option was clearly the fastest and with a little luck, his simpleton cousin would not have thought of it.

Harry left his hiding place and watched the street carefully. An elderly couple was walking their dog a little further on the opposite sidewalk. Otherwise, the street was empty. Harry strode along heading towards Oak Lane. Dudley and Piers were still out of sight. More than two hundred meters before reaching Park Road. At that moment, a bike appeared in the distance, it was Piers'. Harry froze. A second bike made its appearance, it was Dudley's. Harry turned around and started running. He paused and turned abruptly down the ramp to the subway that crossed under the expressway. He slipped between the barriers and entered the tunnel, ran towards the exit and slipped back between the barriers. He then leaned against the wall, invisible from inside the tunnel. He listened. He heard the metallic noise from a bike hitting the barrier and Piers' voice:

"Harry! Why are you running away like this? We just want to play with you!"

Piers chuckled and then Dudley grumbled something like "the bike won't go through," but Harry could not hear him anymore, he had already resumed his run. He was no longer in Little Winging. On this side of the expressway, it was Lower Woodside and he did not know the streets as well here. He slowed down and looked around, he had to head to the public garden, then he would go through it and then ... Then go where? He accelerated again and turned left. Another idea came to his mind: he could find a new hiding spot, wait for Piers and Dudley to come by, wait until they go away, and wait longer this time, and then go home through the subway. Yes, it was the best solution, the muscles in his legs were starting to hurt already.

Harry could hear the bikes and Dudley's cries again. He turned in what appeared to be an alley then froze. It was a dead end. At the far end stood a rusty iron gate. The weeds that had grown in all the available gaps indicated that it had not been opened for years. Harry approached it and glanced in a slot between two iron plates. The garden he could see was fallow and the house seemed deserted. Dudley and Piers could not be far off, Harry had to make a decision. He thought things over: the house could not be deserted or he could still serve as a punching ball to Dudley. Harry had made up his mind.

The gate iron bars and ornaments offered easy holds despite the metal plate that blocked the view of the garden. Harry hauled himself up in a few seconds.

"Hey! What are you doing?" shouted Dudley as he entered the dead end. "You can't do that!"

Harry did not listen and peeped over the gate. The fully smooth inner face offered no grip, and it was far too high to jump. Harry grabbed the stones from the wall that stood on the side and climbed onto the ridge. A tree was standing a few feet away, a thick branch running at Harry's feet. The boy jumped on it and in a stride, he came brutally embracing the trunk. On the other side of the wall, he heard the bikes being thrown to the ground.

"Harry!" called Piers, kicking the gate.

"Let's go back" suggested Dudley. "I've got a new computer game, we could give it a go."

"Yeah, why not?" replied Piers.

Harry did not believe his ears when he heard the boys pick up their bikes and leave. His surprise was such that he had not even grasped their entire conversation. It was as if they had suddenly totally forgotten about Harry's existence. The boy was not going to complain. He caught his breath and dropped to the lower branch. He repeated the motion and leapt to the ground.

Harry could not help but smile, thinking that Aunt Petunia would have hated having a garden like this. The weeds came to his shoulders and mingled with brambles and nettles. The garden was not large and the high stone walls around it seemed disproportionate. In the centre stood a small stone house. The windows were tarnished and the tiles were covered with moss. On the ground floor, there was a door and a window on each side. The first floor, under the roof, only had one window.

Harry took a deep breath and noticed that the air felt different here, it was not the relief of escaping Dudley, nor a scent. It was something else, deeper, that he was not able to explain. He walked towards one of the windows on the ground floor and glanced inside. He could see a living room with a sofa, two armchairs, a fireplace and a bookcase. Harry turned his head to the right and saw the bottom of a staircase. He walked away from the window and began to walk around the house. A single room extension was attached to the back of the building. Harry went to the window. What he saw there was immensely captivating. He did not know if this room was an office, a workshop or a laboratory: on the left a desk was stuck against the wall, in the centre stood a large laboratory bench covered with cauldrons, books and glass or metal instruments that Harry could not name, and on the right he could see a bookcase and a large cabinet.

Harry stood there for a while contemplating the room in front of him before resuming his exploration. As he turned at the corner of the extension, he stopped. There was a door partly covered with ivy and Harry could not help but try to open it. The boy had trouble tearing the ivy off. He grabbed the handle and pushed hard. The hinges creaked and Harry managed to open the door a crack, enough for him to slip inside. He paused for a moment. Only silence surrounded him. He went to the bench and handled all the strange objects making the spiders that hid inside run away. Harry spotted a thick book. The cover was heavily dusty and Harry used the sleeve of his overlarge sweatshirt to dust it off. The title was engraved in the thick black leather cover and one could read _Secrets of the_ _Darkest Art_. That was an intriguing title for a book. Harry opened it and his heart leapt. There was the word "magic" written in the first paragraph, and not just once. This book was about the forbidden word. The Dursleys had forbidden him to talk about anything out of the ordinary and Harry had found out that he should never say out loud the word "magic", ever. But that word was there, spelt out in the text. Harry could not help it, he sat down and began to read.

* * *

Harry was carried by his legs, his mind filled with what he had read in the book. The authors explained how to call the soul of the dead, tear the soul of the living from their bodies, rise the dead and lead them like puppets, and Harry had read only the first chapters. He had to go back to the house. Before leaving he had glanced at the hedges of the books in the bookcase. He could not help but smile when he read the forbidden word several times. His smile disappeared, he could not talk to anyone about it. The Dursleys could not know about this house. No, this house would be his secret, the place where the word "magic" was not forbidden.

Harry stopped daydreaming when he arrived in front of number 4 Privet Drive. The boy took a deep breath to give himself the courage to face the anger of his uncle and aunt. It was already late and if Dudley had told them that he had seen Harry enter a garden climbing a gate, he was going to receive some serious punishment. He entered the hallway and began to take his shoes off when he heard his aunt.

"Do you know what time it is? Where have you been? Come prepare dinner, and quickly, otherwise, you'll go to bed without eating."

That night, lying on his mattress in the cupboard under the stairs, Harry had trouble sleeping. He thought of all the treasures the house could contain, all the rooms he could explore and all the books he could read.

* * *

Harry had to wait one full week before he could return to the house. He had tried to go there in the afternoons after school, but if it was not for Dudley to stop him, it was for his aunt who had him weed the garden. Now, on Saturday afternoon, Dudley was at a classmate's birthday party and Harry had finished the chores Petunia had given him. He left home in silence and headed for Lower Woodside. He took the time to read the street sign that read Milton End. This time he tried to get into the house through the front door but it was blocked by a huge bramble clump and Harry, his hands covered in scratches, had to enter through the back door again. He walked through the laboratory and began to explore the rest of the house. The kitchen was far from Aunt Petunia's modern one. A fireplace stood on the left. The hearth still contained coals above which a blackened iron grate supported an empty pot. On the same wall was a stone sink above which stoves, pans, and other kitchen utensils were hung. The other furniture in the room were a dresser, a pantry and a table with four chairs. Harry crossed the room and entered the living room. His eyes were drawn to the large painting hanging on the mantelpiece. It was one of a woman sleeping in an armchair. Then his eyes landed on the bookcase. He would come back to the books but first, the boy turned away and headed to the stairs. The first step creaked and he froze. When he was sure of being alone, he climbed the rest of the steps. The first floor consisted of a bedroom with a bed, a wardrobe and a chest of drawers. There was also a bathroom with a bathtub. Harry spent the rest of the afternoon opening the drawers, searching the cupboards, and flipping through the books. Finally, he decided to go back home before his absence went noticed.

The next day, Harry was back, he walked first thing towards the bookcase in the living room and seized _Theoretical Magic and Seminal Principles_ he had spotted the day before. He sat on the armchair, spreading a cloud of dust around him, opened the book, and began to read. After several minutes, Harry had almost finished the first chapter, when suddenly.

"So you came back."

Harry startled, and stood up abruptly, dropping the book on the floor. He turned his head toward the voice but there was no one else in the room. Well, not exactly. The woman on the canvas was no longer sleeping, she sat up in her chair and watched Harry with a close look. The boy was frozen, his heart beating wildly. He wanted to flee but his legs no longer obeyed him. No, people in paintings could not move, much less talk, it was impossible. And yet. He then looked closely at the canvas: the woman wore a long black dress trimmed with turquoise and embroidered with silver threads, her long braid of light brown hair rested on her shoulder, and her blue eyes were intelligent and calculating. Harry could see she was moving, she blinked regularly, and she drummed her fingers at an impatient pace on the chair armrest. He tried to say something but the words could not come out. He felt as if he wanted to speak and started opening his mouth several times, which made him look like a fish out of the water.

"Well, young man," said the painting, "eloquence is not your forte."

Harry startled, jumped back and hit the table. The pain pulled him out of his stupor.

"But you ... you can talk ... and ... and move?" stuttered Harry, massaging his sore hip.

"Of course! I'm a portrait" replied the woman as if it was obvious.

"Oh ..." nodded Harry a few times. "You're a magical portrait then."

"Of course I am," she replied, her eyes sweeping over Harry from head to toe. "Tell me, what are you wearing? Is this how wizards dress now?"

Harry looked at his overlarge and worn clothes.

"Oh, these are Dudley's old clothes. He's my cousin," he explained. "I don't know how wizards dress today."

The portrait raised her eyebrows.

"I'm sorry", added Harry hurriedly, embarrassed.

"You don't have to be embarrassed," she retorted. "Aren't your parents wizards?"

"My parents, wizards? I don't know, they died when I was a baby."

"I'm sorry to hear it."

"Thanks. But I don't think they were wizards. They died in a car crash because my father drank too much."

"Yes, car… I remember that muggle invention."

"Invention what?"

"Muggle," repeated the portrait. "We call Muggles people who don't have magic."

"Oh… and when you say "we" you mean wizards and witches?"

The portrait nodded.

"You're a witch then?"

"Of course, and the "we" also includes you, young man."

"What? You think I'm a wizard? No that's impossible !" he exclaimed.

"Of course you're a wizard, you couldn't have found the house if you weren't."

"I don't understand…"

"My brother put numerous charms on this property to make sure muggles don't come near it," she explained.

"Is this your brother's house? Maybe I should leave before he gets home," said Harry, turning to the door.

"Unfortunately I don't think Charles will ever come back," said the woman sadly.

"What happened to him?"

"I was afraid he was made prisoner by our enemies, but no one has found the house for all these years or decades. I don't really know how much time has passed since he left, I'm a portrait," she said. "He must be dead now."

"He may come back," said Harry with hope. "Do you remember when he left?"

"It was early spring 1901."

"1901 ..." repeated Harry incredulously. "Your brother left 89 years ago. Today is May 1990."

The portrait's expression turned saddened and she remained a moment her eyes unfocused. Harry felt it was time for a change of topics.

"But I don't know your name," he said. "I'm Harry."

"Nice to meet you, Harry," said the portrait. "I'm Enid Akenham, Master Alchemist and Necromancer."

Harry had come across the terms alchemist and necromancer in the books. He came to the conclusion that the witch must know a lot about magic. He could ask her questions, and his mind overflowed with questions. He picked up the book, put it on the pedestal table, then turned the armchair and sat down in front of the portrait.

"What did you mean with "Muggles can't get near the house"?" he asked.

"To make sure Muggles wouldn't notice the house, Charles cast a Muggle-Repealing charm around it. So they walk past the gate without realizing it stands there, and if they see it they forget about it and it brings them the idea that they have something more important to do elsewhere."

So that was why Dudley had completely forgotten about Harry when he had started climbing the gate.

"Actually, he had put a lot of enchantments to be safe," proceeded Enid. "They're intended to prevent other wizards from entering without being invited and it's impossible to apparate into the garden or inside the house. Charles had also made the house unplotable, it cannot appear on a map which means that if you don't know the house is here, you can't find it.

"But I managed to find it and to come in," he said.

"Indeed, and I'd like to know how you did it. The charms were meant to stop adult wizards, those who are a real threat, but they wouldn't let you use magic to break in. So how did you manage it?"

"I climbed the gate, then on the wall and I jumped into the tree and leapt to the ground"

"You are very agile indeed," commented Enid, sincerely impressed. "And why did you want to come inside in the first place?"

"Uh ...", replied Harry embarrassed.

Then after a short silence, he explained what had pushed him into climbing over the wall, then he told her about Dudley and the Dursleys, how they treated him, what they would think if they knew about the house and how they hated everything that was out of the ordinary.

"This boy is foul," answered Enid outraged. "These Muggles are absolutely despicable, treating you like a house-elf ..."

"What's a house-elf?" he interrupted.

"Elves are wizards' servants."

"Okay," he said, nodding his head.

Harry had so many questions, he did not know where to start. He wanted to ask her what "Apparating" meant, but also why he had never met other wizards but it was perhaps because they were all hiding in their homes.

"I still have questions," he said. "Do all wizards put so many enchantments to hide their house?"

"Most wizards do protect their homes with enchantments and of course they're hidden from muggles who must absolutely ignore our existence. But they rarely use so many spells. My brother feared for his life. In the face of the threat hovering over him, Charles established a hidden refuge in this muggle area. We were the only two to know about it."

"But why was your brother in danger?"

"Charles was a very famous Master Necromancer. Unfortunately, our Art displeased many wizards. This movement, which was intended to banish dark magic, became much more popular between 1870 and 1880. They didn't go unheard by the Wizenmagot – the wizarding parliament – and they went so far as to prohibit the practice and the teaching of our Art. With other wizards, we stood against this decision but nothing worked. When the situation became unbearable, Charles hid the contents of our laboratory and the results of our work in here and finally settled in this house after my death."

There was a long pause during which Harry contemplated what he had just learned.

"I have another question," he said finally.

"Only one ?" asked Enid with a slight smile.

"Uh no ... more than one. If I'm a wizard, does it mean I can do magic?"

"Of course."

"Oh ... and would you teach me then?"

Enid did not reply, she just slumped against the back of her chair, stared at the boy, and smiled at him.

* * *

Harry went back to the house the next day. He greeted Enid and sat down in what had become his armchair. Several piles of books were now standing on the pedestal table. The day before, Enid had pointed out the books he should read in order to begin his magical training. But Harry could not be away for too long if he wanted to go unnoticed by his uncle and aunt. He could only spend a few hours once or twice a week reading books and talking to Enid, and it slowed down his training. He was thinking of a way to spend more time in the house when he entered through the laboratory door and put his jacket on the back of the chair.

"I thought you wouldn't come back."

Harry startled and faced the painting. He still had not gotten used to Enid going from frame to frame.

"Yes, I know," he lamented. "I couldn't come last week. My uncle became suspicious, he didn't stop asking me where I was going. But don't worry, I didn't tell him about the house. I told him I was going to the public library.

"But you couldn't come," she interrupted him.

"My uncle told me I had nothing to do there and that he knew I was up to something. But I know he just doesn't want people to think I'm smarter than Dudley."

"Pff ... ignorant muggles," she whispered.

"Anyway I'll be able to come more often, next week is the first week of the summer holidays. Well, if my aunt doesn't give me lots of housework and gardening to do.

Harry sighed and dropped into the chair in front of the bench and flipped through a book.

"Isn't there a potion I could use on my aunt for her to let me come here?" he asked.

"No, not in this book," replied Enid.

Harry straightened up abruptly and his eyes lit up.

"That kind of potion exists?" He asked.

"Of course it exists," she said, pointing her finger to the bookcase. "_To Control the Mind and the Will_, third shelf, on the right."

Harry rushed to the bookcase and took out the book. He sat down and flipped through the pages until he found the right potion: _Radices cogitatus agere_. He read the few pages of instructions and faced the painting.

"I don't think I'll be able to brew that potion," he finally said defeated.

"Well, young man! Get a grip!" exclaimed Enid. "I didn't think you were one to give up even before you began. This isn't a difficult potion, with the book instructions and the advice from the potion guidebook you have already read, you'll manage perfectly."

"That's not the problem," he explained. "I don't know where I'm going to find all these ingredients."

"In the cupboard, of course," she answered.

Harry went to the cupboard and opened it. The shelves were filled with jars and vials. Unfortunately, the vast majority were too old and unusable and Harry had to throw them away. He could only keep for his potion a jar of beetle eyes and powdered doxy wings. He made a list of the ingredients he would need to find and read it to Enid.

"All these ingredients are easy to harvest, you can do it alone," she explained. "Once you've gathered everything, you'll come back here to start the brewing."

* * *

Harry came back on the first day of the holidays. Some ingredients had been very easy to harvest: he had dug up the daisy roots of his aunt's garden and he had found mugwort in Mrs Figg's garden. She had even given him a five-pound note for weeding her garden. He had harvested the other plants on the slope between Oak Lane and the expressway or in the garden of Milton End. The hardest part had been finding and capturing frogs.

"Hello," said Harry, entering the lab.

"Hello Harry," said Enid as she entered the painting. "Do you have all the ingredients?"

"Yes," he replied with a big smile as he put his backpack on the bench.

He had wrapped the plants in newspaper and had put the frogs in an old ice cream box he had found in the trash. He re-read the instructions and the most relevant chapters in the _Brewing Tips and Tricks_ guidebook.

"The art of Potion making requires organization, precision and concentration. A discipline to apply in any academic field," she reminded him when Harry had his equipment on the bench.

With that, the boy went to work, strictly following the instructions, and after more than an hour of work, he removed the cauldron from the fire and studied its contents. The potion was a deep green and pearly bubbles would pop regularly on its surface. Its appearance was exactly the one described in the book and Harry could not hold the smile that crept on his face.

"All right," said Enid, looking at the potion. "That's the work level I expect from you. You'll be able to bottle it. Then you'll wash your equipment, put it back to its place and you'll tidy the bench. Never forget that an orderly environment allows quality work."

Harry filled a small vial of potion that he slipped into his pocket and poured the remaining liquid into bottles that he put in the cupboard. He also stored the remains of the plants he had not used, as well as the remaining frog organs. After washing and tidying up his equipment and the bench, he set about reorganizing the laboratory. He dusted every surface and tidied the desk. Charles Akenham had left many notebooks and parchments on it when he had left the house for the last time. Harry piled them up and made bundles that he tied with a string he had found in a drawer.

When Harry was going to put the string ball back in the drawer, something drew his intention. It was a box in marquetry. The boy took it out of the drawer and put it on the desk. He let his fingers trace the ornamentation of the wood. When curiosity became impossible to ignore, he opened the box. It contained a dagger with a silver blade engraved with runes and a carved bone handle. Harry took the dagger and studied it closely before putting it on the desk. The second object in the box was thin, long, and wrapped in a blue cloth. The boy unpacked it and when he recognized it, he smiled. It was a magical wand. It was made of a light red wood veined with a brown-red tone. Harry twirled it between his fingers and then grabbed it and took the posture he had seen in Theoretical Magic and Seminal Principles illustrations. He tightened his grip, focused on the feeling of the wood in his hand, then he felt the magic. It was there, deep inside him. He felt it move from the depths of his being to his arm, then his hand, and ... With a loud crash, the inkwell that sat on the desk exploded in a myriad of crystal shards. Harry jumped back and dropped the wand.

"It is hard to do magic with a wand that doesn't belong to us, especially in the beginning," explained Enid.

"I'm sorry," he whispered shyly.

"But it'd be better if you waited to receive your letter before buying your own wand," she continued. "It'd be highly suspicious if a young wizard from a muggle family, who should know nothing about magic, got his wand so soon. I wouldn't want anyone to ask questions nor to come around and discover the house."

"I don't understand, what letter?" He asked.

"Your Hogwarts letter.

"Hogwarts?"

"School of witchcraft and wizardry."

"There's a school? A magical one? Is it far from here? Is it in London?

"It's not in London, there are too many muggles there. It's in Scotland."

"And they'll send me a letter?"

"Yes, they will. They send a letter to all British wizarding children around their eleventh birthday."

"I have to wait until I'm eleven? But that's a whole year of waiting."

"So eager, are you not? You have all the books in here to start your training."

Harry loved the idea of going to a school with other wizarding children, and if it was in Scotland, it had to be a boarding school. The idea of leaving the Dursleys was appealing. But thinking of the Dursleys, Harry stiffened.

"What is it ?" asked Enid.

"The Dursleys," he replied grimly. "They'll never let me go, and I've got no money, and they'll never pay for me to learn magic.

"Don't worry, if money is your problem, the school offers scholarships for students who need it. And don't forget you're a wizard, Harry, you're not going to let some Muggles stop you from going to Hogwarts."

* * *

Harry had trouble sleeping that night. He thought back to what he had learned: in little over a year he would leave this place whether the Dursley wanted it or not. But above all, he was thinking of what he would have to do in the morning. A few drops of the potion into the teapot, and he would not have to worry about the Dursleys any more.

The next morning, when Aunt Petunia knocked at the cupboard door, Harry hopped out of bed and dressed quickly. He put his hand in his pocket and felt the vial under his fingers. He entered the kitchen and forced himself to remove the smile from his face. He greeted his aunt and began to cook breakfast. His opportunity came when he put the bacon in the frying pan. Neither his uncle nor Dudley had come down yet and Aunt Petunia had just left the kitchen to enter the laundry room. Harry went to the teapot, lifted the lid, and poured the potion. The tea turned green and Harry started to panic. It was not going to work. They would never drink a tea of this colour. But a silver swirl rose out of the teapot and the tea returned to its usual colour. Harry let out a sigh of relief.

Harry put the mail on the table, sat down and ate in silence. His uncle and aunt drank their tea like they did every morning. For now, nothing had changed in their behaviour.

"I'm going to the library today," said Harry.

"Mmh ..." grumbled Uncle Vernon behind his newspaper.

"And I think I'd go there almost every day this summer."

"Mmh ... let me read my paper now", replied his uncle.

"You have the dishes and the laundry to do before leaving," added Aunt Petunia.

That day Harry actually went to the library where he borrowed a few books. He read them ostensibly in front of his uncle and aunt. The potion made it clear that it was perfectly normal for Harry to spend all day in the library, however, he had thought it better to make some evidence. Besides he really took a liking to read. Harry found a routine that suited him perfectly. In the morning he cooked breakfast and brought the mail to the table. His aunt gave him some housework or gardening to do. He went to the library every week and brought different books to read at night in the garden or on the front steps from where he greeted Mrs Figg. His neighbour had several times asked him to come to help her weed her garden which had allowed Harry, in addition to harvesting plants for his potions, to pocket a few pounds. He went almost every day to the house of Milton End where he spent his time between reading books, practising magic, brewing potions and collecting ingredients. Plant harvesting was the easiest thing while catching small animals was more difficult. But this problem was solved when Harry managed to master the wand enough to immobilize frogs, rats, salamanders or mice with a single spell. He also discovered his gift when he tried to capture an adder and Enid was delighted to know he was a parseltongue.

* * *

Harry was counting the money he had raised during the summer by doing some small work in the neighbourhood. He could easily afford a train ride to London. He wanted to enjoy his last days of holidays and see Diagon Alley. The next morning he left Privet Drive just after his uncle did. When he arrived in Charing Cross Road, a light rain took over the summer sun, and Harry pulled his sweatshirt hood over his head. The overlarge piece of clothing fell on his eyes. The boy had no trouble finding the Leaky Cauldron and when he entered he was overwhelmed by the atmosphere of the pub. The room was crowded and filled with the sound of conversations. Harry slipped between the customers, noting their strange outfits: robes, capes and pointed hats. He walked across the room and out into the backyard. There he found a couple and their two children who opened the passage in the wall. He slipped behind them and saw Diagon Alley for the first time.

Harry ran the length of the Alley into the rain. He went unnoticed to the passers-by who walked hurriedly with their children for some last-minute shopping just days before school started. He quickly realized that the few Pounds he had in his pocket would not allow him to buy anything. Enid had told him how to find the Alley but had forgotten to tell him that wizards did not use the same currency as muggles. But that did not detract Harry from his good mood. The boy paused for a long moment in front of the shop window of Flourish and Blotts before he walked in. He paced the alleys, fascinated by the number of books and the variety of topics. Of course, he did not find any books on Necromancy, but he knew that such books could only be found in Knockturn Alley.

Harry had taken off his hood and glanced at the hedges of the books. He froze. His name was written on a book cover. He re-read the title again: _Harry Potter and the Dark Lord's fall_. No, it could not be him, it had to be a namesake. The boy read the titles of the following books and he saw the same name again and again. His uncle and aunt had always told him that his name was very common, but apparently, he shared the name of a famous wizard. Harry took a book off the shelf: _Famous Mages of the Twentieth Century_. He scanned the table of contents and opened the book to the chapter about this Harry Potter. He began to read. He felt his heart beating faster and faster as he read and his eyes stopped on the last sentence of the chapter.

_And still, to this day, nobody knows how, on this fateful night of October 31st of 1981, one-year-old Harry Potter, was able to defeat the Dark Lord and to survive with only a lightning-shaped scar on his forehead._

Harry snapped the book shut and placed his hand on his forehead. He glanced around anxiously but no one had noticed him. He pulled back his hood over his head. He then decided to read the chapter devoted to this Dark Lord, then he took another book. He then realized that all the books in this section were about this same topic. He spent many hours there and learned many things about his parents, his father a wizard from an old pureblood family, and his mother a muggle-born witch, and how they had been killed. He also learned who that Dark Lord Voldemort who had killed his parents was and how everyone was afraid to say his name. Harry knew Muggles knew nothing about wizards and he wondered if his aunt knew how her sister had died. Had she lied to Harry? or did she not know? He came out of his thoughts when someone addressed him.

"Are you on your own?"

It was one of the clerks. He was wielding an impressive stack of books with his wand.

"I was just reading," replied Harry hurriedly, putting the book back in its place in the rack.

"Be careful with the books," said the clerk. "Where are your parents ?"

"They're over here," lied Harry, pointing to the shop. "I think they're done now, I've got to go. Bye."

The boy slipped behind a bookcase and left the shop before the clerk had time to reply, or worse to start looking for his so-called parents in the bookstore.

* * *

Harry shared his discoveries about his origins with Enid, and with this knowledge, he applied himself even more in his study of magic. He also applied the method and precision instilled by the witch in his school work. He was now bringing much better grades than Dudley, to his teacher's satisfaction and his uncle and aunt's the greatest displeasure of. But this displeasure was short-lived, for, with a few drops of _Radices cogitatus agere_, they found it quite normal that their nephew had better grades than their son.

Harry made his first step in necromancy on a cloudy October afternoon. He had left school and headed towards Lower Woodside when his eyes were drawn to a motionless shape on the side of the road. It was a cat with grey tabby fur. Harry ran his hand through its fur. The animal had died recently, surely hit by a car. It did not have a collar. Harry lifted it up and carried it to the necromancer's house. He entered the house, closed the door with his foot, the cat still in his arms and greeted Enid in her frame.

"What are you carrying?" She asked.

"I'm going to rise it," he replied, heading towards the lab.

He placed the animal in the centre of the bench and opened Secrets of the Darkest Art. He had found the ritual during the summer: _Anima carnis morticinae_. Following the instructions, Harry grabbed the wand and traced the runes on the bench all around the cat chanting the incantation. He pulled the dagger out of the box and rolled up his left sleeve. He then chanted the rest of the incantation while slashing his left forearm with the dagger. His blood fell on the animal and was absorbed instantly. Then the runes ignited and the flesh of the boy's arm was tightened back together without a mark.

Harry watched the still motionless animal and in an instant, its eyes opened. The cat got back on its legs and stretched. Harry could hear the crack of the bones taking their place back. He reached out his hand and the cat head-butted him.

"Hello," said Harry.

The animal turned its head and looked attentively at the young necromancer through its dead eyes.

"I'm going to call you Midnight. Do you like it?

The cat purred and jumped swiftly to the floor where he rubbed itself against Harry's leg.

"Wicked…"

Harry was feeling very tired now, but he could not forget the feeling of the dagger slicing into his flesh and his blood flowing through the cut. It was the most exhilarating thing he had ever done. He could not stop wondering when he would be doing it again.


	2. 2 - Vis in sanguine est

_Thanks for the reviews :)_

_Harry Potter belongs to J. K. Rowling_

**2 - Vis in sanguine est**

Unfortunately for Harry, Dudley resumed his hunting-Harry-down game and it took him by surprise one afternoon when he was leaving school. Harry wiped the blood flowing from his slit lip with his cuff. He could already feel his left eye swelling. Dudley would surely have hit him longer if Piers had not run away. Harry smiled as he remembered the scene, he had managed to do wandless magic. When Piers had held Harry's hands behind his back as Dudley hit him, Harry had remembered the first time he had held a wand. He had felt his magic, deep in his core running through his body. And he had felt it again, and so had Piers. Piers had screamed and let go of Harry before looking at his aching hands. Then he looked at Harry, who glared at him and Piers had fled. Dudley had stopped hitting Harry not understanding. But Harry had run away already.

Now Harry was in the bedroom in Milton End. He was looking for something to wear that would allow him to go unnoticed on Diagon Alley. He pulled out a brown cloak from the closet. It was way too large and partly eaten by the doxys, but it had a special pocket for storing a wand and another with an extension charm where Harry could make everything fit in. The boy used a spell to shorten the cloak.

"Midnight," called Harry. "You're coming with me."

The boy opened the extensible pocket and the cat that was curled up on the bed got up and jumped into it.

Harry had taken one of Dudley's old caps before leaving. The hat was black and too big and when Harry put it on his head it would completely hide his scar. He did not want to be recognized, even if the hood of his cloak slipped off. Once in Charring Cross Road, he stopped in a recess between two buildings, removed his coat, put it in his cloak pocket and put the cloak on.

Diagon Alley seemed as crowded as the first time he had been there, but this time the passers-by were walking more calmly, taking the time to look at the shop windows and the holiday decorations hanging all over the place. Harry would go read some books in Flourish and Blotts, but he wanted to go to Knockturn Alley first. Knockturn Alley was much less crowded and the only decorations he saw framing a shabby tavern entrance were old-fashioned and faded.

Harry was looking at a bookstore window when a gnarled and decrepit hand landed on his shoulder.

"Are you lost, boy?" asked the old woman.

"No, I know where I'm going," replied Harry, confidently.

"Did you come to buy?"

She smiled at him, revealing a toothless mouth, and gestured to the tray she was holding. Harry gazed the different organs soaking in jars.

"Or did you come to sell?" She continued. "You're young, I'd offer you a good price for your teeth, or your fingers."

"No, thanks," replied Harry, politely.

He knew full well that these organs could grow back with an adequate potion but he was not going to start selling them on the black market. He turned away and started to walk away when the witch caught him by his cloak.

"Leave him alone," said a voice behind them.

A man was standing in the entrance of a building. He was thin and pale and watched the scene in front of him with his red-iris eyes

"Mind your business, vampire, go back to your hole," she gnarled.

The witch tightened her grip on Harry.

"Or a lobe of your liver. What do you say?" She suggested.

"Still no," replied Harry, shaking his head.

"I'd very well take it without asking you."

"I'll have to refuse, again."

Harry was totally losing control over the situation. He needed to quickly find a solution before ending up in small pieces.

"Refuse? Do you think you can choose?" exclaimed the witch, bringing her hand to her wand.

"Midnight," called Harry and in an instant, the cat jumped out of his cloak pocket.

The witch pointed her wand at the animal and cursed it with astonishing dexterity. Midnight dodged easily. Then she threw a second curse that slipped on its fur.

"What's…?"

But she did not finish her sentence. Midnight threw itself to her neck and tore open her throat with his teeth. Blood spurted out and the hag fell to the ground with a gurgling sound. Harry froze. Well, he had meant for Midnight to get rid of the insistent witch when he had called it but it might have overreacted. Midnight was now eating the dead witch's face off.

"Enough," demanded Harry.

The cat stopped and glared at its surroundings with his dead eyes. Then he came rubbing its master's leg. The silence was thick in the Alley. The onlookers who had stopped to watch the exchange had hurriedly fled or gone back to their shops. There only remained Harry and the vampire. The boy took out the wand and levitated the witch. He managed to get her completely into his cloak pocket. The witch was old, but her organs were still powerful ingredients for Harry's future brewing. He was about to get going when he felt the vampire's eyes on him.

"It's been many years since I'd seen such a work of necromancy," he said to Harry as he took a step towards him.

The boy stared at him for a second but did not linger over his eyes. He had read and he knew that eye contact could allow some Legilimens to penetrate his mind. Harry did not want to take any chances at the moment.

"I'm Edward Whitley," said the vampire, bowing slightly. "Who are you, young necromancer?"

"I'm not telling you my name," replied Harry. "I am the Necromancer."

* * *

Harry knew full well that these situations would not happen again if he was not so small and did not look so puny. He was the smallest in his class and unlike Dudley, Harry was not allowed to have a second serving and was often sent to bed without dinner. He had found the proper ritual in Secrets of the Darkest Art. There was a quick way to regain his strength and gain some weight. All he needed was a healthy subject and he could not use Dudley. It would attract too much attention if one of his family members went missing.

An opportunity arose on a December afternoon. It was raining and it was already getting dark. Harry paced the woods that edged Lower Woodside in search of ingredients for his potions. He put the piece of lichen he had just taken off a tree trunk in his rucksack and put his bag on his shoulders. He used one hand to hold his raincoat hood and went back on the trail. By now he had not met any hiker and he was surprised to see a jogger a little further down the trail. The person was dressed in sports pants and a raincoat. Harry quickened his pace, skirting the edge of the path and tightening his grip on his hood. The man run passed him. Harry heard him running away and then, after a short moment of silence, running back. In a few strides, the man was at Harry's level.

"Hello," he said. "What are you doing here, alone in the rain?"

"Hello," said Harry, keeping on walking.

"You shouldn't wander alone in the woods. Do your parents know you're here?"

"Yes, and they're waiting for me," he lied. "Goodbye, sir."

Harry, who had not stopped walking, quickened his pace. The jogger kept himself near Harry easily.

"You really shouldn't go home alone. Come with me, I'll walk you home," said the man.

He grabbed Harry by the shoulder and made him stop.

"No, I'm going home alone," replied Harry, trying to get out of the way, which made his hood slide.

"It's dodgy here. Tell me where you live and I'll walk you home," insisted the man.

The jogger ran his hand through the boy's hair and Harry shivered.

"Come on, be a nice boy," the man went on.

Harry took his time to look at the man. He was in his mid-thirties with blond hair and looked fit. He should agree to go with him.

"All right," Harry conceded. "I live in Milton End but we have a door in the garden that leads directly to the woods. It's over there."

Harry pointed his finger in the woods general direction and off the trail. He had discovered this door last summer by harvesting plants for his potions. The door was entirely concealed behind some danewort.

"All right, let's go this way," said the man, taking Harry's hand. "What's your name ?"

"Harry," he replied as the jogger dragged him between the trees.

They walked for a few minutes. They were now too far from the trail to be seen or heard.

"It's over here," explained Harry.

"I'd rather we go this way," replied the man.

The jogger tightened his hold on Harry's hand and led him to the opposite direction. After a few steps, they stopped near a tree and the man came closer blocking Harry.

"Why did we stop?" asked the boy.

"You'll be a nice boy, won't you, Harry?" said the man, stroking Harry's face again.

The situation was clearly getting out of hand. Harry should have done something sooner but they were still far from the garden gate and Harry did not want to have to drag the unconscious man for too long.

"Drop your bag and take off your coat," continued the jogger. "Let me touch you."

Harry scoffed but he could not take two steps that the man caught up with him. However it did not matter, Harry had been able to grab the wand.

"_Stupefy_!" He shouted.

A red flash struck the man in the chest, throwing him in the air before he fell heavily to the ground. The strength of the spell was such that Harry staggered and caught himself against a tree. Harry hurriedly put the wand back in his pocket and glanced around waiting for someone to come alerted by the flash. But no one came. Harry let out a sigh of relief and then looked back at the man. He was unconscious. He took the wand out again, pointed it at the man and levitated him. Harry put his hood back on, grabbed the man's raincoat, and dragged the jogger behind him.

Harry touched the lock with the tip of the wand and the door opened with a click. He dragged the man to the laboratory and dropped him on the floor. Harry used his wand to light the candles.

"Who is he?" asked Enid, pointing at the man.

"A muggle, I met him in the woods and he wanted to touch me."

At that moment the man grunted and began to regain consciousness. Harry stupefied him again before undressing him and putting his belongings nearby. The boy took a book from the library and put it on the bench.

"What are you going to do?" asked Enid.

"_Vis in sanguine_," said Harry.

"You'd get a better result with a wizard, and a much better one with a creature."

"I know, but the muggle will have to do."

Harry used the wand to draw runes on the ground around the man. He pulled off his t-shirt and traced other runes on their torsos as he chanted the incantation. Then he used the dagger to drained the man's blood to a large bowl. He chanted the rest of the incantation, the runes ignited and he drank the blood. Harry got dressed. The runes on his chest, still bright, would fade only when he would fully absorb the man's force. From the man, there would remain only a heap of ashes that Harry could use in some future brewing.

Harry took the man's clothes and piled them in the garden. He opened the man's bumbag and pulled out two high-protein cereal bars that he pocketed. There was also a wallet from which he pulled out a little over one hundred pounds. He pocketed the money and threw the wallet on the pile. He used the wand to set it on fire.

* * *

Harry did not feel the effects of the ritual until the next morning. He was awakened early by the pain. All his bones ached and his muscles were painfully contracted. He turned on his mattress and moaned in pain. The house was silent and Harry thought it was better getting up now. As he straightened, his head violently hit the top of the cupboard. He went to the bathroom. He looked at himself in the mirror and noticed that he had grown up during the night and was now Dudley's height. His limbs had thickened and his muscles had developed. He no longer looked lean and puny. He finally had the stature of a healthy child.

Harry went down to the kitchen and began to cook breakfast. Of course, he dosed the tea with the potion. As he cooked the sausages, he heard his aunt coming down the stairs.

"Harry? Are you up already?" she called from the hallway.

"I'm in the kitchen. Hello Aunt Petunia, "he replied when she entered the room.

She froze in the doorway and stared wide-eyed at Harry. She opened her mouth to speak but no sound came out. Her expression of surprise was replaced by one of fright.

"VERNON!" She shouted.

"Yes, Petunia?" replied his uncle's muffled voice from the first floor.

"Come quickly, it's Harry! VERNON !"

"What's the matter?" he asked as he entered the kitchen out of breath.

"It's Harry," she explained, pointing to the boy, an expression of disgust on her face. "He did it again."

"Boy! What..."

Uncle Vernon's words died on his lips when he finally noticed Harry who wondered if he should not have dosed last night dinner as well. He slid the sausages on a plate and faced his uncle. Harry pretended everything was normal and nothing had changed.

"Hello Uncle Vernon," he said, putting the food on the table.

"HARRY!" roared his uncle, his face turning crimson. "What have you done ?"

"I made breakfast," he answered mischievously. "Tea, toasts, sausages and ..."

"Don't act dumb," shouted his uncle, whose face turned purple. "I know you've done strange things again. Don't lie to us. We can clearly see that you grew up during the night."

Harry wanted to answer but it would be of no help. As long as they did not drink their tea, he could not put new ideas into their minds. At that moment, his uncle grabbed him by the t-shirt, dragged him out of the kitchen and pushed him into his cupboard before locking the door. He heard Dudley's footsteps coming down the stairs, the sound of chairs and finally the sound of cutlery. They were going to drink their tea and they would let Harry out, it was a matter of minutes.

"Uncle Vernon," called Harry.

"Silence, my boy," replied his uncle. "You're grounded."

"But I shouldn't be. It's a normal thing to grow up during the night, all children do that."

"Mmh ..."

"By the way, I'm getting a little too tall now to sleep in the closet," suggested Harry.

He had to wait until the early afternoon for his aunt to let him out. He heard bursts of voices coming from the living room.

"I don't want to," Dudley moaned. "It's my second bedroom, it's my stuff."

"We've already made up our mind," Uncle Vernon told him.

"No ... I want him to stay in the cupboard," whimpered Dudley.

"Harry," called his aunt dryly.

The boy faced her. She was still holding the cupboard door open.

"Take your stuff and hurry up," she ordered.

Harry complied and gathered all his belongings on the mattress and used the sheet to make a bundle.

"Follow me," she said curtly.

He followed her upstairs to Dudley's second bedroom. She opened the door and stepped aside.

"With your uncle, we decided you were too tall now to sleep in the cupboard," she explained. "You will sleep here but don't touch Dudley's stuff."

She looked at the boy one last time with repulsion and left. Harry stepped in and smiled. He loved all the things he could do with magic.

Harry kept a low profile and his uncle and aunt went back to ignoring him as usual. He went back to London several times. In the muggle area, he went to some fast-food restaurants where he could eat whatever he liked and then he visited Diagon Alley. What he preferred by far were the bookstores. He could spend hours reading and all subjects held his interest. Well, not exactly, he did not like reading books about him that described him as a hero, the Wizarding World saviour. But he devoured modern history books and every book that could help him understand this new world. He even gave a try to an overly boring law book. Unfortunately, Harry could not always go to Flourish and Blotts because the clerks had spotted him. So he explored the Alley and discovered other more modest bookstores established further away or in some hidden courtyards. He also explored Knockturn Alley with Midnight walking by his side. He met the vampire and sometimes stopped to talk to him.

* * *

Harry wondered how the Dursleys would react when an owl would fly through the kitchen window to drop a letter into Harry's hands at breakfast. But it was not how he received his letter on a sunny July morning. Like every day, he went to pick up the mail, when an unusual letter caught his attention. It was made of yellowed parchment and was addressed to Harry Potter in the smallest bedroom of 4 Privet Drive. Finally! Harry had been waiting for it for so long, and it had arrived. He could barely contain his mirth but the cutlery noises coming from the kitchen brought him back to reality. He pulled himself together, glanced furtively at the kitchen, and hid his letter in his pants. He returned to the table as normally as possible and gave the mail to his uncle. He forced himself to eat calmly. He had to wait for his uncle to leave, then once the table was cleared and the dishes were washed, he left. His first stop was Milton End.

"I received it!" exclaimed Harry.

He took out the letter from his pants and waved it in front of Enid with a big smile. He sat down in the armchair, opened the letter and got up. He could not stay still and he started pacing in the cramped living room. He began to read his letter aloud. When he had finished, he rushed into the laboratory and took a blank piece of parchment from a drawer. He wrote his answer, slipped it into his backpack with a few pounds and Dudley's old cap.

Harry entered Gringotts, rehearsing in his head what he was going to say to the goblin. He had discussed his strategy with Enid. He did not know if his parents had actually left money for him but the goblin did not need to know that. The boy came to the counters and cleared his throat.

"I'd like to access my vault," said Harry.

"Your key," demanded the goblin.

"I don't have it," he answered simply. "It was destroyed the night my parents died."

"What's your name ?"

"Harry Potter."

The boy took off his cap and showed the goblin his scar. The goblin stared at him for a moment, then took out a piece of parchment and wrote something down.

"Fine, please take a seat," he said pointing to a door next to the counter and the parchment flew away.

Harry put his cap on and headed for the door. On the other side was a room with several chairs and Harry sat in one of them. He did not have to wait long. A goblin came in and addressed him.

"Mr Potter?" he asked.

"Yes," replied the boy, getting up.

"Follow me."

Harry followed him to an office on the other side of the gallery. When the door closed behind him, he took his cap off.

"Have a seat," said the goblin, taking a seat himself behind the desk.

Harry complied and the goblin pulled out a piece of parchment and a quill.

"Well, Mr Potter, you asked for assistance from the department of lost keys. When did you lose it?"

"It was destroyed the night my parents died," said Harry.

"Why didn't you or your guardian come earlier?" asked the goblin writing down everything that was said.

"My aunt's a muggle," said Harry. "And I just got my Hogwarts letter today. I didn't need to access my vault before today."

The goblin nodded, wrote a few more words and gave the parchment to Harry.

"I'll need your signature here," he said, pointing to the bottom of the document.

But the goblin did not give Harry his quill. He took another one from a drawer. It was black and long. Harry knew what it was when the goblin did not give him any ink either. The boy began to trace the first letters of his name. When he had penned the last blood-red letter, his name glowed. The goblin grabbed the parchment and stood up.

"Wait a moment," said the goblin.

Was there really a vault for him in the bank or would he have to change the pounds he had slipped into his pocket into galleons? He could not stay still. He got up and paced the room. He waited for what seemed like hours while it was only ten minutes. The door finally opened and the goblin walked in. He faced Harry holding a small golden object in his hand.

"Here it is, Mr Potter," he said, handing him his key. "Don't lose it. The making costs of your new key have already been taken from your vault."

Harry let out a sigh of relief and took the key.

"How much money is there? Can I access it?" he asked hurriedly.

"You have to go to the counters for that," replied the goblin, opening the office door and motioning for him to go out.

"Oh ... yes, sure," Harry said once in the gallery. "Thank you very much, Master Goblin."

The boy bowed.

"Good day, Mr Potter," said the goblin, bowing back to Harry.

Harry had only made a few steps towards the counters when a man approached him.

"Did I hear right? Mr Potter? Harry Potter?" he asked and his eyes fell on his forehead.

Harry then realized that in his excitement he had not put his cap on.

"It's an honour," continued the man.

He removed his pointed hat and shook Harry's hand vigorously.

"Uh ...," Harry hesitated.

"Rhys Jones," said the man. "I wanted to thank you for what you did. You saved us all. Especially when I think about my cousin Lewis. He was an Auror. They came to kill him and his wife and children. It was in 1979 ... terrible night ... But you freed us from Him-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. I can't find the words to tell you how grateful I am."

This conversation was starting to make Harry uncomfortable. He thrust his cap on his head and decided to end the discussion.

"Nice to meet you Mr Jones, but I have to go," he said pointing to the counters.

"Oh yes, of course. Goodbye Mr Potter."

Once outside the bank, Harry gazed at the street before him. He had never thought he would ever have so much money. And yet, his vault was filled with gold and the boy had put big fistfuls of it in his backpack. Harry was finally able to buy things that would really be his. He had to find an owl to send his answer to Hogwarts but the very first thing he wanted to buy was his wand. He made his way to Ollivanders' wand shop, but found it crowded and several people were already waiting outside. He went on his way to another wandmaker he had discovered during his past explorations of the Alley.

A bell jingled when Harry pushed the door open. Harry walked into what was not really a shop but rather a workshop. Several work tables were in the centre of the room and shelves stood along the walls. The shelves supported pieces of wood of all kinds and other elements that made the wand core. A young man was sitting at one of the tables. He worked on the handle of a wand with a small tool.

"Hello," said Harry.

The young man answered softly, all his attention on the wand he had in his hands. He finally raised his head and looked at Harry.

"May I help you ?" He asked.

"I'd like to buy a wand," replied Harry.

"First wand?"

"Yes."

"Master Bromley," the young man called. "There's a customer for you."

He resumed his work and a grumpy looking man entered through a door at the back of the workshop. He was older and had a pepper-and-salt beard.

"First wand, huh? We don't make a lot of these," he says. "This way."

Harry followed the man to one of the tables. The wandmaker pulled out a measuring tape and it started to take Harry's measurements alone.

"You'll have to take off the hat," said Bromley, placing different pieces of wood on the table.

The boy complied and the tape took the measurements of his head. Bromley looked up and froze as his gaze landed on Harry's forehead.

"Merlin's beard!" he exclaimed. "You're Harry Potter!"

"Yes, I am."

"Harry Potter in my workshop! It will be a great honour for me to make your wand, Mr Potter, "the craftsman replied solemnly.

Harry did not know what to say, but Bromley brought him to the table. The boy ran his hand over the pieces of wood until he found the one that best matched his magic. He then did the same with the element that would make the core of the wand. When it was done Bromley spoke again:

"Your wand will be ready in an hour Mr Potter."

Harry was back in Diagon Alley. He headed towards the post office when he stopped to think things over. Wouldn't it be more practical to have his own owl? Especially if he wanted to receive his mail when he was in Milton End? He knew that the house being unplotable, the owls that had not already been there could not find it. And then it would be much easier than always having to go to the post office to send a letter. Harry turned around and entered Eeylops Owl Emporium. He took his time to study the different owl species available. Finally, he left the pet shop with a tawny owl. "Some say they are very common but they fly easily over Great-Britain and they can reach the continent without a problem. I dare say it's a good choice for a first owl" had said the clerk.

"I'll call you Nyx," Harry told his owl, pulling her out of her cage.

The owl hooted in approval and Harry handed her his answer for Hogwarts. She took it in her beak.

"Bring that to Hogwarts," he said. "Then come meet me in Privet Drive. But wait for me outside, I don't want the Dursleys to see you."

The owl hooted and took off.

Harry had some time left before he had to go back to get his wand. He pulled out his list and decided to start with his new wizarding robes. He entered Madam Malkin's Robes For All Occasions. All the employees were already busy with other customers. Harry walked around the shop checking the clothes on display while waiting for his turn.

"It's your turn," said the saleswoman finally.

The young woman motioned for him to follow her and Harry climbed onto a stool in front of a large mirror.

"First-year?" she asked, making him try a black robe.

"Yes," replied Harry.

Harry watched the customers around him as the woman adjusted the garment. There was another boy on the nearby stool. He looked sixteen or seventeen and was dressed in a black Hogwarts robe trimmed with yellow. He was chatting cheerfully with a boy and a girl and they did not notice Harry. Harry had to remove his cap to try his pointed hat on and although the clerk had noticed his scar, she did not say anything.

"That's it," said the saleswoman. "I'll get your clothes so you can check them out."

"I'd like to have some other robes made," explained Harry.

And he pointed the items he wanted out to the woman. He chose a mid-season set of robes and a winter one, and a dark brown hooded cloak.

"And I'd like a charm on the hood to keep it from slipping, and also an extension charm for the pocket," he added.

"Okay, but it will take some time. It'll be ready in the afternoon," she explained.

"No problem."

Time was up, and Harry showed up again at Master Bromley's workshop. This time the apprentice did not take his eyes off him when he came in and his eyes were full of fascination which made Harry uncomfortable again.

"Here you are, Mr Potter," said the craftsman, putting a narrow box in front of Harry.

The boy opened it and pulled out the wand. He grabbed it and gave it a swift movement. He felt his magic rise in him, and when it reached his wand, it ran smoothly through it. A spray of every coloured sparks came out of the wand tip.

"Twenty-eight centimetres, blackthorn and thestral hair," said the craftsman with pride. "Very powerful combination, perfect for a hero like you."

"Wonderful," exclaimed Harry with a big smile.

He gave the appropriate amount of gold to the wandmaker and left the workshop to go to Petterson's Magical Leather Goods. He wanted to get a holster to carry his wand. He had read about the importance of holsters in the preface to The Art of Dueling. The shop offered a wide variety of models. Harry chose a versatile holster charmed to be invisible to muggles and that would carry his wand to his belt, arm, or leg. He also bought a new backpack to go to class, a purse to put away his gold and a trunk. He chose the top model with multiple compartments and a secret one that could only be opened by him.

Harry heard his stomach growl and took a quick lunch at the Leaky Cauldron, followed by a large ice cream from Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour. He then went to Flourish and Blotts where he bought many books in addition to those listed by the school. He had to stop himself when the stack of books he had in his arms prevented him from seeing where he was going. He put everything in his trunk. He also put in the rest of his day's shopping which consisted of a telescope, all his new potion equipment, as well as some quills, parchments, and various notebooks and coloured inks which seemed to be useful for his studies. Then he went back to Madam Malkin's to collect his order and then called the Knight Bus with a flick of his wand.

* * *

Harry rode the Knight Bus the following morning to go back to London. He had not had time to go to the apothecary the day before and he had some errands to run in Knockturn Alley. He had pocketed Midnight in his new cloak and pulled the cat out when they arrived. Harry went to the apothecary first. He bought more ingredients than he was asked for on his list. Then he went to Darkley's Books and Manuscripts. There was only one other customer in the bookstore. The man whore black robes and had black and greasy hair that fell on his shoulders. He was flipping through a book in the potions section of the bookstore. He moved away sharply when he saw Midnight, then he watched Harry closely. He could not see his face in the shadow, hidden under his hood. Harry stared at him for a moment before turning his attention to the books on the shelves. He left the bookstore with an Occlumency textbook that offered much more explanation about its implementation than the book he had found in Milton End and a set of books on curses, written by a former Durmstrang professor. The night before he had noticed that his new wand did not allow him to open the gate. He thought he could find a book about wards in the bookstore that could help him, but he did not. He would have to look at Charles Akenham's notes for a solution to this problem.

He arrived at Little Whinging in the afternoon and was greeted by a hoot. His owl joined him and came to rest on his shoulder. Harry removed the envelope from her beak and slipped it into his pocket.

"I'll show you a place where you can bring me my mail when I'm not at Hogwarts," he said.

He brought Nyx into the house of Milton End and the owl perched in her open cage.

"I received an answer," he informed Enid, opening the letter.

_Dear Mr Potter,_

_We inform you that we have received your owl. Please find attached to this letter your ticket. You will need it to board the Hogwarts Express._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Minerva McGonagall_

* * *

Harry spent the rest of the summer reading his textbooks and practising with his wand. All the spells seemed much easier to him now that he had a wand that did not resist him. It was late August when Harry thought it might be time to tell the Dursleys that he would be going to Hogwarts in a few days and not to the local public secondary school. He had put the last dose of _Radices cogitatus agere_ he had left in the tea and put the food on the table when the Dursleys entered the kitchen. Harry waited for his uncle to take the first sip of his tea to speak.

"I wanted to tell you, I'm leaving in two days and I'll come back next June."

"Mmh ...?" said Uncle Vernon.

"I was accepted into a school called Hogwarts, it's a boarding school, that's why I'll be gone for the whole school year."

His uncle's mumbling approval was covered by his aunt's squeak. She clapped her hands on her mouth. She stared at Harry with a look of horror. The boy then realized that he had spoken too early and that his aunt had not yet drunk her tea.

"How do you know about Hogwarts?" she asked in a breath.

"You knew!" replied Harry, standing up. "I was wondering if you knew about my mother being a witch, but apparently you know a lot more."

"Of course I knew for my sister. Our parents were so proud when she received this damn letter, so proud to have a witch in the family. But I saw her as she really was, she was a monster. And you, of course, you are like her and like your father, an abnormal and defected monster."

Dudley had frozen, he was watching the scene in front of him, his spoon full of cereals was a few inches away from his wide opened mouth.

"You're not going," exclaimed Petunia in a shrill voice. "With Vernon, we promised ourselves that we would end all of it, wouldn't we, Vernon?"

"I'm sure Uncle Vernon agrees that I'd go," said Harry.

"You can go," answered Vernon.

"What did you say?" asked Petunia wide-eyed.

She stared at her husband then looked back at Harry. A glimmer of terror crossed her face as she understood what had happened.

"Harry, what have you done to him? I know you did something to him!" She screamed.

"Just a bit of magic, I'm a wizard after all," replied Harry.

"But why did you do that to him?" She asked.

"Because I can," he says simply. "And because it's easier this way."


	3. 3 - Hogwarts

_someone in the reviews pointed out some timing problem in one scene so I changed a few sentences_

3 – Hogwarts

Harry pushed his luggage trolley along platform 9¾. It was still early in the morning and the platform was quiet. The boy stopped in front of a newspaper seller and bought today's edition of the Daily Prophet's. He did not know how long the ride would take and he wanted a little light reading in addition to the countless books he had packed into his trunk. Harry first put Nyx's cage on the train and then he hoisted his trunk. He found an empty compartment away from the other students and settled down. He pulled out a book from his trunk and began to read, paying no attention to the other students and the growing crowd as it was nearly time to leave.

The train had already left the station when someone knocked on the compartment door. A red-haired boy came in.

"May I sit down?" he asked. "Everywhere else is full."

Harry looked up from his book and nodded. The boy sat down in front of him. A few minutes later, two older red-haired boys, obviously some twins, came in.

"Here you are, Ron," said one twin.

"We're meeting Lee in his compartment," said the other before noticing Harry.

"Hi," he said.

"Hi," replied Harry.

"First-year?" asked the second twin.

"Yes," replied Harry.

"Fred and George Weasley," they said in unison.

"Harry Potter."

The twins stared at him then exchanged a smile.

"Are you really Harry Potter?" asked one of them.

"Uh, yes", replied Harry.

"Whoa ..." said the boy named Ron.

"Well, nice to meet you, Harry. We'll be going, see you, Ron."

"See you later, Harry."

And the twins left the compartment. Ron was still looking at Harry with awe and he needed some time to recover. Then the boys began to chat. Ron told Harry about his brothers and his sister. After a while, Harry turned his attention back to his book.

In the afternoon, there was a knock on the door. A shy chubby blond boy came in with a girl with tousled brown hair.

"Have you seen a toad?" she asked bossily. "Neville's lost one."

"No, I haven't," replied Harry as Ron shook his head. "But I think I know how to find him."

"Really ?" asked Neville shyly.

"Did you try to use a location spell?" asked Harry.

"A what?" asked Ron.

"A location spell," repeated Harry. "What's your toad's name?"

"Trevor," said Neville weakly.

"There are several location spells," continued Harry. "The incantation is _Point me_ and you add what you're looking for. For your toad, it becomes _Point me Trevor_, and then you let your wand show you the way. I think you could also use _Revelio_, but I don't know the specific incantation for toads."

Neville and Ron stared wide-eyed at him.

"I haven't heard of these spells," said the girl. "They're not in our first-year textbooks. Where did you find them?

"No, they're not on the first-year curriculum. I found them in some advanced spellbooks", replied Harry.

"Oh, you read books in addition to those on our list?" she asked, and she sat next to Harry. "So did I. My parents are both muggles, so as soon as I knew I was going to Hogwarts, I read all the books on the list and a few extra books for background reading. Oh but I haven't introduced myself, I'm Hermione, Hermione Granger.

"Harry Potter," he replied. "And yes I've read a lot of extra books."

"Harry Potter! I read so many books about you and how you defeated You-Know-Who."

"Ah ..." said Harry wearily.

"What's the matter?" asked Hermione.

"Nothing, it's just that I don't like reading books about me," said Harry. "The authors see me as a hero but I was just a one-year-old baby when it happened. I don't even remember that night. And most of all, they write about me without even knowing me."

"Oh, yes ... I understand. We won't talk about it anymore. Did you also try to do some magic? I did and all my spells worked."

"Yes, I cast several spells and I brewed some potions already."

"Oh really?" replied Hermione. "I thought you were raised by muggles."

"I learned everything from books."

"I'm really impressed. Do you want to go to Ravenclaw?"

"I don't know," answered Harry sincerely.

"I'm sure I'll go to Hufflepuff," whined Neville. "I've already lost Trevor."

"Better Hufflepuff than Slytherin," said Ron.

"Why would you say that?" asked Hermione.

"Everyone knows every dark wizard went to Slytherin," said Ron.

"That's not true," replied Harry. "There have been dark wizards and witches from all houses throughout History."

Ron stared wide-eyed at him as if he did not believe a word Harry had just said. And yet it was true. Although Charles had been a Slytherin, Enid had been sorted into Ravenclaw.

"What about Trevor?" asked Neville shyly

"You should use the first spell I told you," replied Harry. "Do you remember? The incantation is _Point me Trevor_."

"I can't, I forgot my wand in my compartment."

"Then go get it."

"Or ask a prefect," suggested Ron. "My brother Percy told me they're supposed to help us when we're in our first year."

"All right," said Neville, and he left the compartment.

"And what house do you want to go to?" Hermione asked Ron.

But Ron did not have time to answer. The compartment door opened on three boys Harry did not know. A pale boy with blond hair entered first, followed by two beefy boys who stood in the background.

"They say all down the train that Harry Potter is in this compartment," said the pale boy. "Is that you?"

"Yes," replied Harry.

"This is Crabbe, and this is Goyle, and my name is Malfoy, Draco Malfoy," he said.

"Hi," said Harry.

"Hermione Granger," she said.

"Granger?" repeated Malfoy, haughtily. "Never heard that name before. Are your parents wizards?"

"No, they're Muggles," said Hermione proudly.

"Muggles," repeated Malfoy with disdain. "It's a shame they let people like you go to Hogwarts"

"What's your problem with people like her?" asked Ron firmly, having jumped from his seat.

"No need to ask you who you are," Malfoy replied, glaring at the boy from head to toe. "My father told me all about the Weasleys: red hair, freckles, and more children than they can afford."

Ron had become scarlet and Hermione had opened her mouth indignantly.

"Be careful who you befriend Potter," added Malfoy. "You shouldn't hang around with the wrong sort of people. If you want to avoid the scum I can help you."

"I have no problem spotting the wrong sort of people in this compartment," said Harry, glaring at Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle.

"Mind your tongue, Potter or you'll end up like your parents."

"Do you think you scare me?" asked Harry coldly. "Are you at least able to carry out your threat on your own? Or are you going to ask your Death Eater of a father to do it for you?"

"How dare you, Potter? I forbid you to say one more word about my father. You don't know who you're dealing with," said Malfoy.

"Don't worry, I know who I'm dealing with and I'm not stupid enough to underestimate your father," retorted Harry. "And I have the right to say that he was one of Voldemort's soldiers."

Ron squeaked, and Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle went pallid. Malfoy had really pissed him off. Harry could not help but think of Dudley when he heard Malfoy speak.

"We don't say the Dark Lord's name," said Malfoy between clenched teeth.

"I've already defeated him once, I can't see why I couldn't say his name," said Harry proudly.

"My father will hear about this," snarled Malfoy.

He turned on his heels and left the compartment followed by his two stooges.

* * *

Harry had wondered how the students were sorted between the different houses. But he had not expected it would be by a patched talking old hat. He watched the students step forward one after another. Did the hat enter the students' minds to see their personality? Harry had to stop his cogitation when Professor McGonagall called his name. A murmur rose throughout the Great Hall and Harry headed towards the stool. Every eye was on him. He sat down and put the hat on his head.

"Mmh ...", said a voice in Harry's head. "A lot of talent, yes, and what a mind! You could achieve such great things."

_Really?_ thought Harry.

"Yes, really," answered the Sorting Hat.

The hat had indeed entered his mind, he had heard his thoughts and had answered him. Harry wondered what kind of magic it was. The Hogwarts library was very famous, he hoped he could find some answers there.

"And what thirst for knowledge, don't you ever stop thinking?" continued the Sorting Hat. "I know exactly where to put you: RAVENCLAW!"

Harry stood up under the applause and headed towards the Ravenclaw table.

Many pupils from his new house stood up to shake his hand and welcome him. Harry just nodded, not knowing exactly how to respond. He sat in front of a prefect called Terence Branton. When the Great Hall went quiet again, Professor McGonagall called the following names from her list. After the last student had been sorted, Professor Dumbledore stood up.

"Good evening everyone," he said. "First of all, I'd like to welcome every one of you to this new year, and please welcome back Professor Quirrell. Professor Quirrell just came back from a one-year in the field training and he'll be your new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher."

A man wearing a big purple turban stood up. He nodded shyly to the students and sat down quickly. Harry's gaze then rested on the professor sitting next to Professor Quirrell. The man had long black hair and a hooked nose. Harry was sure he had met him before, but he could not remember where nor when.

But Harry's thoughts were interrupted when food appeared on the table. He gaped for a moment until he heard his name.

"Harry?" repeated Terence. "Won't you eat ?"

"Uh ... yes, yes," he replied hastily.

He filled his plate with food and began to eat.

"Say, Terence, who's the teacher seating next to Professor Quirrell?" asked Harry.

The prefect turned his head towards the teachers before facing Harry again.

"It's Professor Snape," he replied. "He's the Potions teacher and Slytherin's Head of House.

"But everyone knows he knows a lot about dark magic," added another student. "He's been asking Dumbledore to give him the Defence Against the Dark Arts position for years."

"Every year," explained Terence with a sigh." And we always have a different teacher. I hope Professor Quirrell is competent, I take my OWLs at the end of the year."

_He knows a lot about dark magic?_ That was interesting. Harry then remembered where he had already seen Professor Snape. It was in the bookstore in Knockturn Alley. Harry stared at him but Professor Quirrell tipped his head at the same moment and turned towards Professor Snape to talk to him. The boy leant a little more to see the Potions teacher's face. And then, Harry felt a sharp pain coming from his scar. He hissed in pain and rubbed his hand to his forehead.

"Are you all right, Harry?" asked Terence.

"Yes, I'm fine," replied Harry, pulling his hand away from his forehead.

But Harry did not have to give more explanations. The students were now all focused on the desserts that had just appeared on the table.

* * *

"First-years, over here," called Terence.

After climbing many steps and travelling many corridors, the group of students stopped in front of a wooden door adorned with an eagle-shaped silver knocker.

"Unlike other houses, there is no need for a password to enter the common room," explained a prefect named Penelope Clearwater. "All you have to do is answer the riddle."

Penelope knocked and the knocker came alive.

"What runs around the wood without entering it?" asked the knocker.

"Oh, I know," exclaimed Padma Patil, "bark."

"Good answer," replied the knocker.

The door opened and Harry followed the group inside. The common room was spacious and circular. High arched windows stood at regular intervals and showed the surrounding mountains. Between the windows, the walls were covered with tall bookcases or blue and bronze hangings. A little further, a fire crackled in a large hearth. Numerous armchairs and several tables surrounded by chairs were arranged in the room. The prefects stopped in the centre of the common room, where a small teacher was already waiting for them.

"Welcome to Ravenclaw," he squeaked. "I am Professor Flitwick, Ravenclaw Head of House. You are here among the wisest and most studious of students. Your thirst for knowledge is endless and your new house is here to help you reach your goals. Devote yourself to your studies and when you leave this school, you'll make the pride of your house. One last word, before you go back to your dormitories: stay away from this childish quarrel between Slytherins and Gryffindors. The door of my office is of course always open to you, if you need to talk to me. Your schedules are waiting for you in your dormitories, your prefects will show you the way."

"Girls, follow me," called Penelope.

"Boys, with me," said Terence.

Harry followed the prefect. They made their way to the back of the common room where a white marble statue stood. It was a statue of a woman wearing a long dress and a diadem. Rowena Ravenclaw was engraved on the pedestal. Penelope opened the door one the right and told the girls to come in. Terence imitated her by opening the door on the left. They climbed a spiral staircase and after climbing several floors they stopped at a door. First-years was branded in bronze letters.

"This is your dorm," he announced, opening the door. "Your luggage has already been brought in and your schedules are on your beds, as announced by Professor Flitwick. This door leads to the bathroom. I'll let you settle in, goodnight."

"Goodnight," the boys answered in unison.

When Terence closed the door behind him, Harry took the time to look at the dormitory he shared with his two classmates, Anthony Goldstein, and Terry Boot. The room held three four-poster beds with blue curtains and each student had a desk and a small bookcase. The wall was pierced by high windows and they had the same view as from the common room. Harry felt exhausted, he mechanically slipped his pyjamas on and dropped into his bed. He fell asleep as soon as his head touched the pillow.

* * *

His first week of classes was coming to an end and Harry went to the library. He only had an astronomy and a transfiguration essay to finish and then he could fully explore the place. He was heading to a distant table when he saw Terry, already seated at another one. The boy waved his hand at Harry so he could join him.

"Padma's on her way," whispered Terry. "She went to Gryffindor Tower to get her sister. We wanted to work together on McGonagall's essay. Do you want to join us?"

"Sure," said Harry, taking a seat in front of his classmate.

He had just taken out his books, parchment, and quill when Padma came by.

"Parvati isn't here?" asked Terry.

"No, she said it was only the first week of class and that she would do her homework later," she said.

"I told her she should do it now and that it was better to get ahead," said a voice behind Padma.

"Hi Hermione," said Harry when the girl came near the table.

"Hi Harry," she said, taking a seat next to him.

"How went your week?" he asked her.

"It went pretty well, except for this afternoon's Potions class. It was really horrible," she said. "It's so unfair, Professor Snape gave points to the Slytherins but didn't give me any when my potion was much better than theirs. And he took points from Neville when he had to go to the hospital wing after melting Seamus' cauldron."

"I think he hates me," said Harry.

"Who ?"

"Professor Snape."

"What makes you say that ?" she asked.

"The way he looked at me," said Harry. "Oh, and at the beginning of class, he kept asking me questions and ..."

"And Harry correctly answered every one of them and Professor Snape didn't even give him any points," added Padma.

"Don't worry, Snape hates everyone, anyway," reassured Terry. "And Hermione just confirmed what I had already heard, that he only gives points to his Slytherins. It has nothing to do with you."

"You might be right," replied Harry.

* * *

Time flew, and the first two months of classes were already behind Harry. He had plenty to keep busy, with his homework, but also with the work he had given himself. First of all, he spent an hour every night working on his Occlumency. He absolutely had to learn how to properly close his mind especially since Professor Snape had been trying to get into his mind during Potions class. Moreover, he studied in his bed, the curtains closed, the curses taught in the books he had concealed in the secret compartment of his trunk. But it was not a good studying environment, and above all it was dangerous. In this confined space he risked getting hurt or hurting his classmates. Harry had to find a place where he could study without being seen. He had, of course, thought of unused classrooms, but it was risky. Some pupils or a teacher could walk on him, or worse he could accidentally enter the forbidden third-floor corridor. Harry thought back to the Headmaster's speech on his first night and an idea came to his mind. There was another place where he was sure he would not be seen, the Forbidden Forest. The boy would go to the library to get ready for his little trip outside.

"_Fantastic beasts_?" asked Hermione.

"I was thinking of buying the complete collection at Flourish and Blott this summer but I already had too many books and I couldn't carry them," explained Harry. "I need to be ready when I'll go to the Forbidden Forest."

"You want to go to the Forbidden Forest?" asked Hermione. "But it's dangerous and above all, it's forbidden."

"I know it's dangerous," replied Harry, "and I'm not going today. But I intend to go and I have to be prepared. If I already know what lives there it'll be less dangerous. And don't worry I'd go by daylight and avoid the full moon."

He had to be all the more cautious since he had left Midnight at Lower Woodside for fear that one of the teachers would notice him. He could only rely on himself. Hermione leaned over the book.

"Do you think there are centaurs?" she asked, pointing to the open book.

"According to the book, there are centaurs all over Europe," said Harry. "But the only way to be sure is to go there."

"I still don't think it's a good idea to wander alone in the Forbidden Forest."

"You could come with me."

"No, I don't want to get into trouble, and I have to do my homework for next week."

Harry had not managed to talk Hermione into coming with him and he headed alone towards the Forbidden Forest. He stepped between the trees and spotted some fungi that only grew in magical woods. He picked one up and pocketed it. He froze when a huge figure appeared in the distance between the trees. He rushed towards a nearby tree and hid behind his trunk. Harry heard a dog barking and he peeked into the forest. He sighed with relief. The figure was Rubeus Hagrid. The gamekeeper approached, a huge black dog by his side.

"Harry, is that you?" He asked.

"Good morning, sir," said the boy, coming out of his hiding place.

"No need to call me sir, Harry, call me Hagrid like everyone else. You shouldn't be here alone."

"Yes, I know Hagrid, but look what I found."

Harry pulled the fungus from his pocket and showed it to Hagrid.

"It's a Blue Hat, it's a very rare fungus, it only grows in places where magic is present. It is used in the brewing of many potions, including ..."

"Easy Harry," interrupted Hagrid. "How do you know all this?"

"I read it in _One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi_."

"A real Ravenclaw then," replied Hagrid with a smile. "Come on, let's go out of there."

He waved to Harry and the boy followed him until they had left the forest.

"Say, Hagrid, you must know the forest well?" asked Harry.

"Oh, yes, that's part of my job as a gamekeeper," he replied.

"You must meet dangerous beasts sometimes."

"I have nothing to fear there, the animals know me, but you, Harry, I don't want to see you wandering the Forest. Not even to get a fungus you saw in a book, understood?"

"Yes, Hagrid, but perhaps you could tell me about all the beasts that live there."

"Oh, I can tell you about them, and over a cup of tea if you want."

Harry followed Hagrid to his hut on the edge of the forest. he was planning to return to the forest and he hoped Hagrid would give him useful information about the dangers he might encounter. Moreover, he would not be caught next time. If Hagrid had let him finish his explanation on the fungus, he would have known that it was the main ingredient of the invisibility potion.

* * *

Harry watched the bats flying in the Great Hall. The room had been decorated for the Halloween feast. He walked towards the Ravenclaw table. He slowed down when he passed the Patil sisters who exchanged quick low-voiced words. Parvati went to the Gryffindor table and he heard Padma mumble in the tone of exasperation something that sounded like "pff, boys ...".

"Something's wrong?" asked Harry.

"It's Parvati, she told me what happened during her Charm class," began Padma. "Ron Weasley went to say some really horrible things to Hermione. He even went so far as to tell her that it was normal for her to have no friends. And he said all of it just because she was able to cast a spell that Ron wasn't. Hermione spent the afternoon locked in the lavatory crying. Parvati tried to get her out for dinner but she didn't want to."

Padma went to sit at the Ravenclaw table and Harry followed her thinking about what his classmate had just told him. He had often spent time with Hermione in the library during those first two months of classes. They did not speak much but studied or read in silence at the same table. Was sharing these moments a thing friends did? Was Hermione his friend? Were Terry, Anthony and Padma his friends too? Harry could not really tell. After all, he had never had any friends before.

"Aren't you eating?" asked Terry.

Harry stopped daydreaming. His plate was still empty while all the other students had already piled theirs with food. He got up from his seat and looked at the Gryffindor table. Hermione was still absent. Harry made up his mind. If he hurried up, he could be back in the Great Hall with Hermione before dinner was over.

"Where're you going?" asked Padma.

"Looking for Hermione," replied Harry and he quickly left the Great Hall.

He was about to climb the stairs when he saw Professor Quirrell running towards the Great Hall. Harry rushed behind a tapestry. He glanced under the fabric and his eyes fell on the professor's turban. The boy was struck by an intense pain coming from his scar. He put one hand on his forehead and another on his mouth to stifle a cry. Fortunately, the teacher had not heard him and Harry came out from his hiding spot. He rushed up the stairs four at a time and ran to the girls' lavatory.

Harry paused at the door before he opened it. He poked his head in the crack. He could hear someone sniffing from inside a cubicle.

"Hermione?" He called.

"Harry?" she replied in a trembling voice. "What are you doing here?

"I came to get you, of course. You're going to miss dinner and it's the Halloween feast tonight."

"I'm not hungry, and I don't want to sit at the same table as Ron."

"Come on. Ron's just jealous because you're better in Charms than he is."

Hermione blew her nose and Harry heard her remove the lock from the cubicle door.

"I'm waiting for you outside," said Harry.

He got out of the lavatory, but as he stepped into the hall, he was swamped with a nauseating smell. He heard a loud groan and he turned around abruptly. He froze. A troll was heading towards him. It was huge and its head grazed the ceiling with every step it took. A new pestilential stench reached Harry's nostrils and the boy came out of his stupor. He rushed into the lavatory, startling Hermione.

"Hermione," he shouted. "We have to go, quickly."

He grabbed her by the sleeve of her robe and pulled her towards the door. He stopped dead. The troll had stopped in front of the opened door. Hermione screamed as it leant in and entered the room. Harry pulled out his wand.

"_Impedimenta_," he shouted.

But the troll's skin was too thick and the spell got deflected. The monster took another step forward.

"_Incarcerous_," said Harry, aiming at the troll's legs.

A rope appeared and tied the monster's legs together. It staggered and lost his balance. It crashed into the cabins with a loud crack. The huge club it was holding went flying in the air.

"Now," shouted Harry.

He ran to the door, still tightly holding Hermione's sleeve. They dodged the club that fell and crashed the sinks. They were about to go back to the Great Hall when they heard footsteps coming their way.

"This way," said Harry, dragging Hermione in the opposite direction.

They turned the corner of the corridor just before the teachers came into view. They stopped after running down another corridor, out of breath.

"What was that?" asked Hermione.

"A mountain troll," replied Harry.

"I know, what I mean is, what was a troll doing in the school corridors?" retorted Hermione.

"Good question," said Harry, looking at his watch. "We missed dinner."

"I'm going back to my dorm anyway."

She stared at Harry for a moment, wringing her hands. Then she took a deep breath.

"Thank you," she finally said. "For what you did to the troll."

"You're welcome," he replied.

Hermione turned on her heels and headed towards her dorm. Harry watched her walk away before heading himself towards the Ravenclaw tower. He heard footsteps coming closer and turned around. He saw Hermione running towards him, motioning for him to leave.

"What's the matter ?" he asked without understanding.

"Peeves' in the corridor," she said hastily. "I'll find another way to go back to Griffindor tower."

Indeed, they could hear Peeves swearing and laughing from the corridor and Harry went after Hermione. They climbed a flight of steps but were stopped by a locked door. Hermione pulled out her wand and pointed it to the lock.

"_Alohomora_," she murmured.

The door opened with a click and they rushed to the other side. They had just entered a corridor lit by the flickering light of a few torches. Then they saw it. A huge three-headed dog was standing right in front of them. They realized they had just entered the forbidden third-floor corridor. Harry froze and Hermione squeaked in surprise. Three pairs of eyes turned simultaneously to watch them. They turned around and quickly left the corridor.

"And that was a Cerberus," announced Harry once they stood safely behind the closed door.

"But concerning this one, I can imagine why it's here," Hermione said. "Did you see what it was standing on?"

"Yes, I did. The Cerberus is here to guard something, something hidden under that trap door."

* * *

On Christmas morning, Harry woke up alone in his dorm. He got up and started to get dressed, then stopped. His gaze had just landed on the stack of presents at the foot of his bed. He could not believe it, he had never received any presents before. He grabs the first gift from the pile. It was a Chocolate Frogs package from Hermione. The second gift was a pack of Bertie Bott's Every-Flavour Beans from Terry. Finally, Harry opened his third and last gift. It was a piece of silvery fabric. It was very light and it slipped on the floor at his feet. He picked it up and turned it around and around. It was a cloak. Harry stepped in front of the mirror and put it on his shoulder. He startled when he noticed that now he could only see his head in the mirror. He remembered what he had read in _The Art of the Invisible_. Invisibility cloaks were extremely rare. Harry read the card that had fallen from the package:

_Your father left me this before he died. Use it well. Merry Christmas._

Harry could not help but smile. He knew exactly what he would use the cloak for. In the evening, Harry went down to the common room. It was deserted and the boy put on his cloak. It had been several months since he wanted to explore the Restricted Section.


	4. 4 - The Forbidden Forest

_Thank you for the reviews_

_Harry Potter belongs to J K Rowlings_

4 – The Forbidden Forest

The weak light of January hardly filtered between the trees, casting faint shadows on the frozen forest ground. The other students were attending the first Quidditch match since classes resumed. Their clamour was totally stifled and Harry could hear only the animals and the rustle of the wind in the branches. Harry followed the path that led to the forest depths hidden under the invisibility cloak. He reached a wide clearing from which several trails started. This time, the boy chose to follow the one that led to the right.

Harry froze when he heard hoofs beating the ground. He leaned against a tree and carefully watched the forest around him. Centaurs appeared in the distance between the trees. The horde stopped for a moment before setting off at a gallop. Harry resumed his exploration. A little further the path split into two trails. Harry wondered what direction to follow when he heard a creak above his head. He raised his head sharply and saw eight eyes looking at him. The spider that was in the tree was gigantic. It was about the size of a big dog. Harry stepped to the side and scanned the nearby trees branches. There were many other spiders, just as huge, spinning their webs. Harry went back to the first clearing and followed another path. He walked a few more minutes and stopped in a new clearing. A little further, the forest stopped on the shore of the lake. Harry had just found the perfect place. It was bright and partially sheltered by the trees and he could not be seen from the castle. He pulled off his invisibility cloak, sat on a stump and took out his textbook on curses.

The sun was setting when Harry began heading towards the castle. He had just reached the wide clearing he had crossed earlier in the day when he saw a figure walking towards him. Harry froze and made sure his cloak was covering him completely. The figure stopped in the centre of the clearing. It was Professor Quirrell. He scanned his surroundings, anguish plain on his face. Harry was thinking of retreating and leaving the clearing unnoticed when a second figure appeared from between the trees. Harry recognized Professor Snape immediately. Snape came to his colleague's level in a few strides.

"Why d...did you w...want to meet me here, Severus?" spluttered Quirrell.

"I rather our exchange stay confidential," replied Snape coldly. "After all, students aren't supposed to know about the Philosopher's Stone."

"Wh...what do y...you mean?" asked Quirrell, taking a step backwards.

"You know exactly what I mean Quirinus," said Snape, stepping forward. "Have you found a way to get past this monster without being killed?"

"But, Sev... Severus, I...," mumbled Quirrell, stepping back.

"I assure you, Quirrel, you don't want me to be your enemy," replied Snape, stepping forwards, his eyes threatening.

"I d... don't understand," stammered Quirell.

He stepped back again and startle when his back touched a tree trunk.

"So this is the game you want to play. We'll meet again, soon," snorted Snape. "And I hope you'll choose your side by then."

Snape turned and left the clearing, leaving Quirrell curled up against the tree trunk. Harry had heard the entire argument. So many questions were now clashing in his mind. His thoughts were interrupted when Professor Quirrell straightened up. He left the clearing staggering.

* * *

The next morning Harry quickly ate his breakfast. He watched Hermione at the Gryffindor table. She got up and walked towards the door. Harry did the same and came to meet her.

"Harry," said Hermione. "Where were you yesterday afternoon? I looked for you in the library and you weren't at dinner either."

"Come with me," he replied. "I have something to tell you."

He dragged her towards a deserted corridor and into an empty classroom. He closed the door behind them and sat down on one of the tables. Hermione sat next to him.

"So what did you want to tell me?" she asked.

"Yesterday I went to the forest," he began.

"All afternoon? But I thought one invisibility-potion gulp lasted only a few hours."

"I don't need the potion anymore."

Harry stood up and pulled the invisibility cloak from his bag.

"I got this for Christmas," he explained. "Apparently it belonged to my father."

"What is it?" she asked.

"An invisibility cloak," he replied, putting it on his shoulders.

Hermione stared at Harry's head that floated in the air. The boy removed the cloak and sat back down on the table. Hermione took the cloak between her fingers and carefully studied the fabric. Then her expression changed. She pursed her lips and looked at Harry suspiciously.

"Who gave it to you?" she asked.

"I don't know," replied Harry. "The card wasn't signed."

He pulled the card out of his bag and handed it to Hermione who grabbed it.

"Mmm... I'll go check the library," she said. "There may be a way to find out who sent it to you."

"I've already searched during the holidays," he retorted.

"And?"

Harry pulled a notebook from his bag, opened it on the page and handed it to Hermione.

"All these spells are supposed to find the sender or to find where a letter or a package comes from," he explained.

"Did they work?" she asked.

"No, the person who sent me the package must have thought that I could use these spells to find him. He cast other spells on the package to prevent them from working."

"So you've already "used it well", your cloak? said Hermione, handing Harry the card and the notebook.

Harry then told her what he saw in the forest and finished his story with the argument he had caught between the two teachers.

"The Philosopher's Stone," said Hermione thoughtfully. "Do you think that's what's ...

"Under the trap door, guarded by the Cerberus," interrupted Harry. "Yes, I think it's the Philosopher's Stone."

"And Professor Snape wants to force Professor Quirrell to get the Stone? Maybe we should warn Dumbledore?"

"No, we have no proof, and we shouldn't know about the Stone. And Dumbledore will want to know how I know about it. I don't want him to know that I've got a cloak that allows me to walk unseen in the castle, or that I was in the forest, let alone what I was doing there," he explained.

"And what were you doing?"

"I found a place where I could practise some spells."

"But I thought we were practising spells together?" pouted Hermione.

"These spells aren't in the Hogwarts curriculum," said Harry.

"Oh…"

"But you can join me next time and we can practise together."

Harry knew it was risky to reveal so much, but he trusted Hermione. He knew full well that training with someone would allow him to progress faster. He also wanted to practise duelling and he was sure Hermione could quickly become a formidable partner.

"All right," said Hermione with a grin.

* * *

"I'd like to brew that potion," said Hermione, her nose still buried in the book. "It's a basic healing potion for small wounds and bruises. I think it could come handy if we want to practice duelling. That way we won't have to go see Madam Pomfrey if we get hurt. I think I have all the ingredients."

She and Harry were sitting at one of the library tables. They were waiting for Terry and Padma to join them so they could do their homework together.

"Oh no," continued Hermione. "I don't have any armadillo bile left."

"I do," said Harry. "I'll bring it to you."

"Thanks, Harry, do you have any moon-crocus petals too?"

"No, but we saw some moon-crocus in the forest last time we went there."

"But the flowers must be picked up in the moonlight."

"We'll harvest them tonight then."

"Tonight? I don't think it's a good idea."

"Don't worry, we'll be together. I'll keep watch while you pick up the flowers."

"Okay, let's meet outside Gryffindor Tower tonight at ten."

At ten o'clock, Harry, hidden under the invisibility cloak, stopped in front of the Fat Lady's portrait. He didn't have to wait for long. The painting swung open and Hermione's head appeared in the opening.

"I'm here," said Harry, uncovering his head.

Hermione grinned and walked over to him. The boy covered them both with his cloak. They left the castle and crossed the moonlight-lit lawn that stretched out in front of the school. They went around Hagrid's hut and stopped. The forest was black and silent before them.

"The vegetation's dense in this season," whispered Hermione. "We'd be able to light our wands in a few meters without being seen."

"Let's go," said Harry.

They followed the trail and after walking about fifty meters, they slipped their wands out from under the cloak.

"_Lumos_," they said in unison.

The end of their wands lit up and a bright light showed them the path that lay in front of them. Shortly before reaching the clearing, Hermione stopped abruptly.

"Look," she whispered.

There was a small puddle of silvery liquid on the ground.

"Do you think it could be ...," began Hermione.

"Unicorn blood," finished Harry. "There must be a wounded unicorn not far from here."

"Let's hurry up then. The beast that injured the unicorn may still be around."

They reached the moonlight-bathed clearing and extinguished their wand. The flowers covered a small patch on one side. They diffused a faint pinkish glow and seemed to vibrate under the moonlight. Hermione came out from under the cloak and squatted next to the flowers. She filled a jar of petals while Harry was keeping watch. His gaze landed on a bright white lump on the other side of the clearing.

"I'm done," she whispered.

"Look over there," he muttered, lifting the cloak to allow Hermione to slip under the fabric.

"Let's have a look."

They approached the white and shining shape. It was a unicorn. It was dead, its side deeply slashed, and many silver blood splashes littered the ground. They heard a rustle from the depths of the forest and froze. There was another rustle like the sound of a cloak trailing on the ground. Then suddenly a hooded figure crawling into the moon-light clearing. Harry tightened his grip on his wand. The figure stopped above the animal gaping wound and began to drink its blood.

Then they heard hoof beats coming from the depths of the forest. As they got closer, the figure looked up and scanned the clearing. As it looked through Harry, the boy was struck by an intense pain coming from his scar. He groaned and fell to his knees. Hermione firmly held the cloak around them and squatted at his side. An arrow whistled above their heads and struck a tree, missing the hooded figure. It turned around hurriedly and disappeared between the trees. A group of centaurs crossed the clearing at a gallop. New arrows whistled and the centaurs followed the hooded figure between the trees. One of the centaurs stayed behind and leaned over the dead unicorn. Harry and Hermione did not dare to move. The centaur sniffed and turned towards them.

"Who's there?" he asked getting closer. "I can smell you."

Hermione slipped from under the cloak and stood up. Harry did the same. Now centaur could see them. He glanced at them.

"The forest isn't safe right now, Harry Potter," he said, staring at the boy's scar. "You should both go back to the castle."

"What was this thing?" asked Harry.

"Do you know what's hidden in the school in this very moment?" said the centaur.

"The Philosopher's Stone," replied Harry.

"And do you know what it's used for?"

"It can turn the metals to gold and it can be used to brew the Elixir of Life," answered Hermione hurriedly.

"Exactly," replied the centaur. "Who, do you think, has spent years hidden in the shadows, waiting for an opportunity to regain his strength and power?"

"Voldemort," replied Harry.

"This thing was You-Know-Who?" asked Hermione.

"Or what's left of him," continued Harry.

"You should go back, I'll walk you to the edge," said the centaur.

* * *

A week had passed and Harry was unable to focus during class. The only thing he could think about was his meeting with Voldemort in the forest. He was heading distractedly towards the library when he saw Hermione walking towards him with a resolved step. She stopped in front of him with her hands on her hips.

"Harry, we need to talk," she said bossily.

"About what?" he asked.

"About what happened in the forest," she muttered.

"I…"

"You haven't been yourself since that night. Terry also noticed it."

"Ok ..." he sighed.

They left the castle and walked to the shore of the lake. They sat on a rock.

"So… ?" urged Hermione.

" I've been thinking about it for over a week now," said Harry, "I've turned the problem around, and there's something that doesn't make sense to me."

"And what's that ?"

"According to the centaur, this thing was Voldemort. I understand what he was doing there: he needs to drink unicorn blood to survive until he can get the Stone. In all the books I read, it was clearly stated that his body was destroyed the night I defeated him. Which means that this thing had to be his mind or his soul and he needs the Elixir of Life to create a new body."

"But?"

"But if he doesn't have a body, how is he going to get his hands on the Stone. And then I thought back to the argument between Snape and Quirrell."

"Do you still think Professor Snape wants to force Quirrell to steal the Stone?

"Yes, but before I thought Snape wanted the stone for himself. But now I think he wants the Stone so he can give it to Voldemort.

"I don't know, Harry..."

They watched the lake for a few moments.

"I've got a question," said Hermione finally. "That night in the forest, when You-Know-Who looked at us, you..."

"It was my scar," interrupted Harry. "It started hurting me the moment he looked our way. And that's another thing I don't understand. I spent ten years without any trouble and as soon as I got here my scar starts hurting me."

"And you think You-Know-Who would trigger the pain of your scar?"

"I ... no, that's not what I meant. Well, I don't know ... I meant here at Hogwarts, not here in the forest."

"So it's not the first time your scar hurts?" she asked.

"No, it isn't," replied Harry. "The first time was at dinner on the first day while I was watching Snape, and the second time was while I met Quirrell in a corridor. But I can't see any connection between all these situations."

"Mmh ... So your scar hurts in the presence of Professor Snape, then of Professor Quirrell, and finally of You-Know-Who."

"Hold on! No, twice in the presence of Professor Quirrell! At dinner, Quirrell was sitting next to Snape."

"So twice in the presence of Professor Quirrell. You realize it makes him our main suspect."

"Yes I know, and I can't believe it, he is afraid of his shadow."

"Exactly, that makes him the perfect victim," said Hermione.

"But of course!" exclaimed Harry. "Voldemort could very well force him, or bewitch him, or something like that."

"But we've got no proof."

"We'll find some."

"Maybe we'll find some proof in his office," said Hermione.

"Are you talking about going through his stuff in his office?" asked Harry astounded.

"Exactly."

"But it's too risky. Imagine you get caught!"

"I'll go at dinner time."

"It's a bad idea," said Harry.

"Do you have a better idea?" asked Hermione.

"No..."

"So tonight, dinner time."

"Ok, but I'm coming with you. I'll bring the cloak."

* * *

Harry and Hermione stopped at the door of the defence room. All the students were in the Great Hall for dinner. They entered the classroom and reached the door leading to Professor Quirrell's office.

"_Alohomora_," muttered Hermione.

There was a click and the door opened. They did not know where to start looking so they started with the desk. There must have been something that could prove that Quirrell wanted to steal the stone or that Voldemort was forcing him to do so. They had opened all the drawers in the office and were about to search the bookcase when Hermione eyed at her watch.

"Dinner's nearly over," she said.

"Did you find something?" he asked

"No nothing. You?"

"Just some notebooks where he wrote about his trip to Albania, but nothing more."

"We'd better go."

"Give me a few more minutes."

"I'm going to keep watch in the corridor," she suggested.

"All right," he replied, taking the invisibility cloak out of his pocket. "If in ten minutes I haven't found anything, I'll come to you."

Hermione grabbed the cloak and disappeared. Harry flipped through a few notebooks. He did not know how much time had passed when he heard the classroom door slam. He froze. Had Quirrell finished dinner? Where was Hermione? He quickly put away the notebooks and rushed to the office door. He stopped just before colliding with Professor Quirrell.

"Potter, what are you doing here?" he asked.

"Good evening Professor, I ... I had a question about our last essay," said Harry hastily.

"Really Potter?"

And it was then that Harry was struck by the difference in the Professor's speech.

"But you don't stutter anymore!" exclaimed Harry. "So it's you! I knew it!"

Quirrell did not answer. He just came further inside the room. He waved his hand and the door slammed shut. Harry heard the lock coming into place.

"Knew what, Potter?" asked the Professor.

"You want to steal the stone and give it to Voldemort," said Harry.

"You're far too curious, Potter, and far too smart for your own good."

Quirrell snapped his fingers. Ropes sprung out of nowhere and tied up Harry.

"You'll not live long, Potter," threatened Quirrell. "My Master will be delighted when I'd kill you."

"I'll kill you before you can go back to him!" spat Harry coldly.

"Really, and how would you manage that?"

At that moment, Harry heard a whisper from behind the teacher. In an instant Quirell's sleeve caught fire. The flames rose quickly up to his arm and he screamed in pain. Harry saw the tip of a wand that floating in the air and being pointed to him.

"_Finite incantatem_," said Hermione's voice.

The strings that tied Harry up disappeared instantly and the boy grabbed his wand. But Quirrell had managed to extinguish the flames already. He rushed to Hermione and grabbed the invisibility cloak. It slipped and unveiled the girl who pointed her wand at the teacher. But she was not quick enough and Quirrell hit her violently with the back of his hand. Hermione collapsed to the floor.

"You'll pay for that," roared Harry. "_Nervos glaciare_!"

The curse hit Quirrell in the leg. He fell heavily to the ground writhing in pain. Harry pointed his wand at the teacher's throat and prepared his new curse when ...

"Tell me, Harry, where did you learn that curse?"

Harry's blood froze. The voice was cold and seemed to come from Quirrell but he had not spoken. This second of inattention on Harry's part was enough. Quirrell snapped his fingers and the boy's wand flew from his hand to his teacher's. He snapped his fingers again and Hermione's wand, which lay on the floor, flew in his hand.

"My Master asked you a question, Potter," said Quirrell. "Answer him."

"Voldemort is here?" asked Harry.

"Of course, my Master never leaves me."

"Let me talk to the boy," said the voice.

"But, Master, you're still weak..." moaned Quirrell.

"Don't contradict me, Quirinus," continued the voice.

The professor straightened and began undoing his turban with his valid arm. Harry was like petrified. The turban fell to the ground and Quirrell turned on his heels. In place of his skull, a face faced Harry. The face had red eyes and two slits instead of nostrils.

"Tell me Harry, was this the first time you cursed someone?" Voldemort asked.

But Harry was silent. He had to find a way out of this place.

"And you know Occlumency," continued Voldemort. "I'm impressed. Who taught you?"

Harry remained silent. There was a movement on the side and Harry saw Hermione regain consciousness. She straightened up and when her eyes landed on the teacher, she screamed.

"Silence!" yelled Voldemort.

Hermione snapped her mouth shut, her eyes filled with terror. Voldemort then turned his attention back to Harry.

"So you don't want to answer me. You have so much potential, Harry, and such abilities shouldn't be ruined. Join me. We'll start by securing the Philosopher's Stone and we'll get gold and eternal life out of it. I'll teach you forgotten magical skills that you won't learn anywhere else. I'll give you knowledge and we both know that knowledge is power."

"I don't want gold, and I don't need you to teach me," replied Harry.

"I'd teach you to bring your parents back. Don't you want your parents back?"

"I'm not stupid, I know it's impossible to really bring them back."

"Well, too bad for you, Harry. If you don't want to join me, you'll end up like your parents. Quirinus, kill them, and kill the Mudblood first."

"No!" yelled Harry as he rushed to the Professor.

But Quirrell waved his hand and Harry was thrown back and hit the desk. Quirrell limped to Hermione. She tried to flee but he grabbed her by the hair and she screamed. Harry ignored the pain and got up. He rushed to Quirrell and threw himself on him. The Professor let go of Hermione and grabbed Harry by the throat. The boy was struck with a sharp pain coming from his scar. Then Quirrell released his grip. The Professor cried in pain and watched his hands cover with blisters.

"Kill them," ordered Voldemort again.

Quirrell tackled Harry and they both fell to the ground. Harry tried to pull himself away and his hand touched the professor's face. Quirrell yelled when his cheek started getting covered with blisters. Hermione took advantage of that moment to grab him by the collar and separate him from Harry. The boy managed to get up and he knocked Quirrell back to the floor. He threw himself on him and covered the professor's face with his hands.

"Hermione, help me!" called Harry as Quirrell screamed and struggled.

Hermione leaned on Quirrell's shoulders trying to keep him still. The professor's face was quickly getting covered with blisters. The smell of burning flesh was spreading through the room. Harry was blinded by the pain. The only thing he could hear was Quirrell's death rattles followed by the sound of broken glass. Then silence fell and the pain went away.

Harry pulled away from the teacher and rolled on the floor. He ran his hands over his face and slowly opened his eyes. Hermione had not moved. She was still holding Quirrell to the floor or what was left of him. Where the teacher had been, there was only a charred corpse. Harry came closer and she took her eyes off the corpse.

"Harry, what have we done?" she said in a trembling voice. "We killed a professor."

"Have we managed to kill Voldemort?" He asked.

"No, he ran away," she said weakly, looking at the broken window. "He escaped through the window."

Harry stood up and looked out the window. Of course, there was no trace of Voldemort.

"Come on," said Harry, offering his hand to Hermione. "We have to leave."

She grabbed his hand and he helped her to her feet. Harry then picked up their wands that had rolled on the ground, then the Invisibility Cloak.

"What shall we do now?" asked Hermione.

But Harry did not have time to answer. The office door was blasted open and Professor Dumbledore rushed into the office.

"Mr Potter, Miss Granger, what happened here?" asked Dumbledore.

"Professor Quirrell was possessed by Voldemort and he tried to kill us," answered Harry coldly, looking down at his feet.

"He's telling the truth," added Hermione. "We know about the Philosopher's Stone and we know that Professor Quirrell was trying to steal it so that You-Know-Who could use it. But don't punish Harry, it was my idea to come to the Professor's office."

"Don't worry, there won't be any punishment," said Dumbledore. "What happened to Professor Quirrell?"

"I didn't do it on purpose," replied Harry hurriedly. "When Professor Quirrell grabbed me, his hands started to burn."

"You must believe him, Professor, Harry didn't burn him with a curse," said Hermione.

"Don't worry Miss Granger, I believe, Mr Potter," said Dumbledore softly. "And I don't think he cast any curses. Come with me now, I'll take you both to the hospital wing."

* * *

Madame Pomfrey let them leave the hospital wing the next day at noon. Hermione had already left and Harry was finishing getting dressed. He was walking towards the door when Professor Dumbledore came in.

"Ah, Harry, I see you've already recovered," he said. "I'd like to have a word with you before you join your classmates for lunch."

"Of course, Headmaster," replied Harry.

The boy went back to his bed. He took a deep breath to make sure his mind was closed and sat down. The Headmaster sat in a chair next to the bed.

"Miss Granger and you did very well last night," began Dumbledore.

"Not good enough," replied Harry. "Voldemort fled."

"You're very hard on yourself Harry. Yesterday evening, you both delayed Voldemort in his return to power."

"But that won't stop him, he'll keep looking for the Stone."

"Don't worry about the Stone, Harry. It will be moved to a place that even Voldemort won't find."

"But then he'll look for other ways to come back."

"Yes, he will. But you don't have to worry about it for now."

"And you're not going to punish us? Or denounce us to the Aurors? Even after what happened to Professor Quirrell?"

"No, Harry, I won't punish you and of course not, I won't tell the Aurors. You aren't responsible for Professor Quirrell's death."

"Professor, there's something I don't understand. When Professor Quirrell grabbed me..."

"Harry, when your mother died, she died to save your life. Voldemort has always been unable to understand love, and even more so the love of a mother willing to sacrifice herself to save her child. This love is so strong that it leaves a mark, an invisible mark but still, a mark, deep inside of you. Quirrell shared his soul with Voldemort and therefore he couldn't bear to touch you."

"Mmh, all right..."

"Yes, I know, you'd like more explanations and you'll keep thinking about what I just told you. If that weren't the case, the Sorting Hat wouldn't have put you in Ravenclaw. But, don't worry about this anymore, Harry. You're still young, you should think about having fun with your friends and studying. Lunch must be served now, I won't keep you any longer."

* * *

The following Sunday, Harry and Hermione were sitting on the edge of the lake. He had told her the conversation he had had with the Headmaster. Now they watched the clouds reflected on the surface of the lake silently.

"So you-Know-Who will come back?" said Hermione finally.

"You fought him, I think you can call him by his name now," replied Harry.

"So Voldemort will come back?"

"Yes, and next time I'll kill him. I'll be ready. He was right when he said that knowledge was power. I'll study more, practise more, and I'll be ready."

"We, Harry."

"What?"

"We'll study, we'll practise, and we'll be ready next time."

"I…"

"Oh, don't make that face, Harry! I'm not letting you face Voldemort alone. He also tried to kill me. I know very well what he thinks of people like me, and after what happened, I know he'll try to kill me again."

They remained for a moment watching the landscape in silence.

"Are you sure you want to help me defeat Voldemort?" asked Harry.

"Positive," replied Hermione. "And you won't be able to change my mind. So what's your plan?"

"The end-of-year exams are in less than a month, so for now, we study. Then we'll have a whole free week before going back home. I'll need your help to search the Restricted Section."

"What are we looking for?"

"First of all, I want to understand the whole story of my mother's sacrifice and Voldemort who can't touch me. If Dumbledore's right, I want to know how I can use that against Voldemort in the future. Then I want to know how he managed to not fully die and how he kept his soul on Earth."

"Okay, we'll do that."

"And if we can't find the answer in the Restricted Section, I'll have access to other books this summer."

"Where?" asked Hermione interested.

But Harry did not answer. He just looked at the surface of the lake.

"I know you're hiding things from me," said Hermione. "I told you that you could count on me. I won't betray your secrets."

"I know," said Harry. "I know I can trust you. That's not the problem."

"So what's the problem?"

"Have you started reading the Occlumency book I lent you?"

"So that's what worries you. Don't worry, I finished it and I started practising."

"You have to keep practising," said Harry. "And as long as you're not sure you can completely close your mind, you can't..."

"Keep eye contact for a long time," replied Hermione. "I know, you already told me."

"I know, but you have to be careful. Especially with Dumbledore and Snape."

"By the way, speaking of Snape, we still don't know what part he played in this story."

"He could have been an accomplice," said Harry.

"Or he could have wanted the Stone for himself," Hermione went on. "We don't know anything about him."

"I'll see what I can find out about him."

"Okay, but you still haven't told me how you'll have access to more books this summer."

"It's a long story."

"I've got the whole afternoon."

"I'll tell you but you have to come to visit me this summer. There is one place I'd like to show you and someone I'd like to introduce you to."


	5. 5 - Lux Tenebris

_I'm back. I know it's been a long time since I last posted but I write so slowly in English (and the narrative parts always give me a bit of trouble). I will finish this story don't worry._

**5 – Lux Tenebris**

Harry put down his trunk heavily in Milton End's living room.

"Good evening Enid," he said to the painting.

"Good evening Harry," she replied. "How was your first year?"

The boy put Nyx's cage on the table and opened it to let the owl fly out for the night. He then sat into an armchair facing Enid.

"I have so much to tell you," he added.

Harry began to relate everything that happened during his first year. He punctuated the story with great gestures, demonstrations of magic and reading notes he had taken on many topics. At dusk, he stopped to light the candles and then took out some dinner he had bought in London.

"I'm protected by my mother's blood," he explained then. "But from what I've read, this protection is only possible as long as I stay at my aunt's house. And I don't want to depend on her for that and I'd like this protection to be permanent."

"I can teach you to anchor this protection to another place, like this house," offered Enid. "Have you found a way to link your wand to the charms protecting the house?"

"Yes, I have."

"All right, you'll start with that, and once you've linked your wand, you'll add the new enchantment based on your mother's blood protection."

"How am I going to do that?"

"You'll need your aunt's blood. The instructions are in the _Claustra sanguinis_ chapter."

"Okay, but I wondered if it was possible to strengthen the protection in me."

"I don't know how to do that, but it must be possible, you'll have to experiment a little, perhaps by modifying _Vis in sanguine_."

Books were scattered in the living room. Harry had taken them out as Enid gave some explanation. Now it was pitch dark. It was way too late to return to the Dursleys' and Harry wanted to enjoy his last moments of freedom. His aunt would certainly not have forgiven him for bewitching Vernon and his summer would be hellish. Harry blew the candles with a simple wave of his wand, laid down on the couch and drifted into sleep.

The next morning Harry went out into the garden, called Nyx and handed her the letter he had just written.

"Bring that letter to Edward Whitley," explained Harry. "I don't know where he lives but you'll find him in Knockturn Alley."

Nyx hooted in understanding and took off. Harry went back into the house and opened his notebook. He had spent many evenings in the Hogwarts library trying to figure out how he could change the charms that protected the house. He had found out what he was looking for and had listed all the spells he needed to cast in seventeen steps and eighty-six wand movements.

Harry swabbed his sweaty forehead with his sleeve. He had followed every instruction to the letter. It was time to check his work. He left the garden and closed the gate behind him. He then put his wand tip on the lock and with a click, the gate opened.

Harry spent the remaining of the day thinking of a strategy that would allow him to get his aunt's blood without her knowing it. Then he listed all the needed potions and went out to pick some ingredients. He heard a hoot and Nyx came to rest on his shoulder. Harry unfastened the piece of parchment attached to her talon and unrolled it. The vampire's response was short.

_Tonight, the Laughing Ghoul._

_E. W._

* * *

Harry walked down Knockturn Alley, Midnight by his side. The Laughing Ghoul was a busy tavern, even more so at this time. Harry could already hear the bursts of voices escaping through the open door. A heavily drunk man came out, staggered, narrowly avoided Harry and slumped on a nearby wall, swearing unintelligibly. The tavern was noisy, dark and smoky. Harry came in, stopped, and slowly scanned the room. Silence fell suddenly as the customers suspiciously glared at the boy and his _inferus_. Some murmurs arose. Harry's eyes fell on the vampire. Edward was seated alone, at a table which occupied a little alcove lit by a single candle. The boy went to the counter.

"A butterbeer and a cup of blood for my guest," he asked the innkeeper, putting some coins on the counter.

"Right away," replied the man with a nod.

The customers had lost interest in Harry and had resumed their conversations. The boy turned away and joined the vampire. Midnight jumped into the pocket of his cloak and Harry sat in front of the vampire.

"Good evening Edward," he greeted him.

"Necromancer," replied the vampire with a nod. "I didn't expect your letter. Why did you want to meet me?"

"I wanted some information on someone," said Harry.

The innkeeper came up to their table and they went silent. He put their drinks on the table and went away.

"On who?" asked Edward when the man had gone far enough.

"Severus Snape," replied Harry.

The vampire eyed his interlocutor thoughtfully.

"Why do you care about him?" asked the vampire.

"I have my reasons," eluded Harry.

"He's a dark wizard, Death Eater and Potion Master. He currently teaches at Hogwarts. He was Master Stutton's apprentice, his lab was a little further down the Alley. I saw Snape on a regular basis at that time. He often came to the Laughing Ghoul, mostly with other Death Eaters. Avery and Mulciber were with him most of the time, but sometimes Malfoy joined them. Snape then got a job at Hogwarts, surely on the Dark Lord's orders. He had to keep an eye on Dumbledore after all. After the fall of You-Know-Who, he was sent to Azkaban until Dumbledore testified on his behalf and had him cleared."

"What? But why would Dumbledore have him cleared if he was a Death Eater?"

"Dumbledore claimed that he switched sides and became his spy."

"And you believe that?"

"I don't know, Snape's always been particularly hard to read."

"But that'd mean that he was able to deceive Voldemort."

"You say the Dark Lord's name?" asked Edward, surprise etched on his face.

"Yes," replied Harry defiantly.

He was expecting an extra remark, but the vampire merely eyed him in silence and took a sip of blood.

"Did you fight for him?" asked Harry finally.

"No," answered Edward. "But some days I wonder if I shouldn't have joined him."

"Why?"

"He would have given me a wand."

For a moment Harry had forgotten that the Ministry had forbidden vampires to use a wand.

"Will you fight for him if he comes back?" asked the boy.

"I should ask you the same question," replied Edward with a slight smile.

"No, I'll kill him," murmured Harry, only for the vampire to hear.

Edward froze for a moment, then burst out laughing. Some customers turned around and looked their way. The vampire's laugh stopped as quickly as it had appeared and he glanced at the nearby tables.

"Finish your butterbeer," he added, swallowing the contents of his cup in one long sip. "This isn't a place to have this kind of conversation."

Edward stood up and walked calmly towards the door. Harry followed him with his eyes until the vampire stepped outside. Then he drank the remaining of his pint and got up. He found the vampire outside, leaning against the front of a closed shop, arms crossed over his chest. The boy stopped for a moment. Was it safe to follow Edward to a more isolated place? The vampire's thirst could be quenched for the moment, but he was still a dangerous creature. However, their conversation was not over and Harry wanted to hear what Edward had to say that could not be said in the tavern. He took a deep breath and approached Edward. The vampire straightened up and took a step forward.

"Come on," simply said the vampire.

Harry wanted to ask where they were going but he did not have time. Edward grabbed him by the arm and Knockturn Alley spun around them. Harry felt sucked in and the air was thrown out of his lungs as he felt the butterbeer stir dangerously in his stomach. Then, a second later the uncomfortable feeling of asphyxia stopped. Edward's hand released his grip and Harry staggered. The boy nearly fell, but he barely managed to stay on his feet. The gust of iodized wind that lashed his face made him gather his wits quickly. Harry grabbed his wand and pointed it at the vampire. Edward took a step back and showed him his open hands as a peace offering.

"You have nothing to fear, Necromancer. I just brought us to a place where we could talk freely," explained Edward. "You can put your wand away."

Harry then took the time to study his surroundings. The sun had disappeared beneath the horizon, but there was still enough light to distinguish the landscape and his interlocutor. The ground beneath his feet was sandy and he turned towards the steady sound of the waves. The sea reflected the sky tinged with pink and orange, and the wind laden with sea spray made his cloak beat. Fortunately, the charm on his hood was strong enough to hold it in place. Edward sat at the top of the dune facing the open sea. Harry was still thinking about what had just happened and a question had just come to his mind. The boy put his wand aside and sat down.

"Can you get a wand despite the law?" asked Harry.

"No wandmaker will ever sell me a wand," explained Edward. "And those who would, would ask for a far too high price for their silence."

"Is there another way?"

"Maybe, but even for a vampire, Azkaban isn't a nice place."

"Mmh ..."

"And I don't need a wand to Apparate," explained Edward with a smile.

"You didn't answer my question," said Harry. "Will you fight for Voldemort if he comes back?"

"No, I don't think so."

"Why not?"

"Firstly, because I may have the next Dark Lord in front of me," replied the vampire.

"And secondly?" asked Harry.

"I know things about him. I remember him when he was young before he became known to everyone as Lord Voldemort."

"What do you mean? What kind of things?"

"This piece of information is worth more than a cup of blood."

"Okay, coming back to our first topic, what did Snape do after he was released from Azkaban?"

"He went back to Hogwarts as if nothing had happened. He still visits Knockturn Alley, however, I see him less often at the Laughing Ghoul where he still meets with Avery and Mulciber."

"Do you think Snape is still loyal to Voldemort?"

"I don't know, I'd say he became a Death Eater for the social rise it could provide when the Dark Lord would gain power. After all, Snape is a half-blood. And then he found out a way to save his skin and escape Azkaban by entering Dumbledore's service. It is always more interesting to be on the winners' side after all. Maybe he'll follow you if you're convincing enough."

Harry thought for a moment about what he had just learned. If he had wanted to have this conversation with Edward it was to know if he should keep an eye on Snape at Hogwarts and whether he should expect an attack from him. But Edward seemed more interested in telling him that there would be a way to recruit him if he ever wanted to become the next Dark Lord.

"And he could have tricked Dumbledore?" asked Harry.

"I don't know," replied Edward. "But let me give you some advice. Beware of Dumbledore and his allies. He's done a lot to keep Necromancers outlawed."

"I know."

Harry knew full well that Dumbledore would be the one he should kill once he killed Voldemort. But for the moment he could not do anything and he could not tell Edward anything about his plans for the future. He did not know if he could trust the vampire, but Edward could give him information if only he knew what to offer in return. However, Harry had one last question he wished to ask.

"What do you know about Quirinus Quirrell?" he asked.

"I only know what was written about him in the paper," said Edward.

"In the paper?"

"The Daily Prophet published an article about him just after he died. The Defence Against the Dark Arts position has made another victim. However the cause of death wasn't mentioned."

"I don't want to know how he died. I wanted to know if he was a Dark wizard or a Death Eater."

"No, he was neither."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, of course, people talked after he died but no one knew him in the Alley."

Harry thought about it for a moment. Suddenly one of the vampire's sentences came to his mind.

"What did you mean by "the Defence Against the Dark Arts position has made another victim"?" he asked.

"I think the job's cursed," explained Edward.

"Cursed?"

"Yes, and I'm not the only one to think so. It's been a long time since any of the professors stayed on for more than a year. Most of the time they leave on their own will but sometimes they disappear or they die."

"Has it always been like this?"

"Oh, no, back in my days the job wasn't cursed. I'd say that it's been thirty years or so. Every year there's the same ad in the Daily Prophet to recruit a new teacher."

Harry remained silent. He had hoped to get some useful information on Quirrell but this lead did not seem to be going anywhere.

"What's your price for the information you have on Voldemort?" asked the boy.

The vampire remained a moment silent, his eyes on the horizon.

"I need a potion," he finally said. "It was classified as Necromancy by the Ministry and its brewing is forbidden."

"And you can't brew it yourself?" asked Harry.

"No, unfortunately, this potion contains an ingredient I can't get."

"What's the name of this potion?"

"_Lux tenebris_, and I want a whole cauldron."

"And if I give you this potion you'll tell me Voldemort's secrets."

"Yes, I will."

"I'll write to you when the potion's ready."

* * *

Harry did not know this potion and for the moment he could not remember if the instructions were in one of Milton End's books. But he would find a way to brew it.

Harry found the instructions for _Lux Tenebris_ in a little book that was titled _Treatise on the Use of Necromancy in the Making of Remedies_. He swept the pages quickly. The potion was complex and it needed a whole month of brewing. It was intended to allow vampires to withstand the sunlight and it needed the addition of the brewer's blood. He looked through the list of ingredients and his eyes caught the one Edward could not get: the light of the sun caught at its height.

"Enid, how do you do to put sunlight into a potion?" asked Harry, turning his head towards the portrait.

"With a solar concentrator," she replied. "There's one in the cupboard. It's the glass device on the bottom shelf."

Harry walked to the cupboard and took out the solar concentrator. It was a large glass lens to which was connected a glass bulb.

"And how does it work ?" he asked.

"You point the lens towards the sun and the light is focused into the bulb," explained Enid. "Then you unscrew the bulb and pour its contents into the potion. But you only have a few minutes to do it before the light dissipates."

* * *

Harry headed towards Privet Drive the next day at noon. He had left his trunk in Milton End and had just taken some clothes in his backpack. He pushed the front door and entered the living room. The Dursleys were all sitting there watching television.

"I'm back," he said.

Uncle Vernon grunted as Aunt Petunia turned her head towards her nephew and stared at him. Harry turned around and headed upstairs towards his room. A few moments later, his aunt appeared in the doorway.

"Where's the rest of your stuff?" she snapped at him.

"I didn't bring it," replied Harry simply.

"That's for the better. Now listen to me. Don't you dare use your magic on us, is it understood?"

"And what would you do otherwise?"

"Otherwise, you can pack your bags for good."

"You know it won't be a punishment for me?"

"You'd end up homeless."

Harry shrugged.

"You should be a little more grateful," continued Aunt Petunia.

"You know, I've learned a lot since last year," replied Harry. "Now I know how to make you forget. When I'll use magic on you, I'll make sure you won't remember it."

Aunt Petunia froze, livid and watched her nephew, terror etched on her face.

"Lunch is ready," she added in a trembling voice. "From now on, you no longer have to make us breakfast."

Harry watched her turn around and leave the room. Actually, this summer might be bearable.

* * *

Harry was lying on his bed watching the ceiling. His summer was going well so far. His uncle and aunt ignored him and did not give him any more housework or gardening to do. They did not ask him any questions when Harry was spending his days out of the house.

Harry had come up with a plan to get Petunia's blood and it was time to put it into action. Uncle Vernon was at his office and Dudley was at Piers' which meant Harry was alone with Aunt Petunia for the afternoon. She had tea every day at the same time. Harry had been at the grocery store and had bought the same tea his aunt usually drank. Then he had soaked the leaves in a potent sleeping draught and put the new tea box in the kitchen cupboard. This last step had not been easy since his aunt had banished him from the kitchen.

He looked at his watch and stood up. He grabbed his backpack and silently walked down the stairs, then stopped in the living room and watched his aunt. She was sitting in an armchair, a magazine open on her knees. She took a sip of her tea and put her cup back on the coffee table. Harry headed towards the living room window and closed the curtains. Better not to be seen by the neighbours. Petunia noticed him then. She sat up and opened her mouth but no sound came out. Her eyes fixed on Harry gradually closed and she slouched limply on the armchair. Once Harry was sure Aunt Petunia was unconscious, he approached her.

He emptied his backpack and placed his dagger, a few empty vials and three bottles of potions on the coffee table. He crouched down and grabbed her arm. He lifted her sleeve up to her elbow and took the dagger. Harry made an incision and collected the blood into several empty vials. When he had collected enough blood, he took the vial of dittany tincture and put a few drops in the wound. A thin black smoke came out of the wound and after a few seconds, the wound stitched itself without leaving any traces. Harry then grabbed a vial of blood replenishing potion (it had been the most difficult and longest potion to brew of the lot) and emptied it in his aunt's half-open mouth. He took the teacup from the coffee table and emptied it into the sink before exchanging the tea boxes. At last, he took the third vial which contained an amnesia potion. He had found the instructions in his first-year Potions textbook. He glanced at his watch and dropped a few drops in his aunt's mouth. He only needed to erase the last fifteen minutes. He gathered his stuff and put it back in his backpack. Finally, he opened the curtains and left the house.

Once in Milton End's house, he greeted Enid and took the vials of blood out of his bag. He would only need one for the ritual he was about to perform. The other vials were for the experiments he wanted to conduct. Harry crouched in the entrance and started drawing runes with his aunt's blood. He went out into the garden and walked along the wall chanting the incantation.

"_Cum sanguine matris domum protego_," he repeated, making sweeping movements with his wand.

When he came back to his starting point along the wall, a bright dome appeared, encompassing the house and the garden. The dome shone a few moments before becoming invisible.

* * *

Harry had left 4 Privet Drive at sunrise. He wanted to have time to complete the first stages of _Lux Tenebris_ before the sun reached its heights. He arrived at Milton End, entered the house, greeted Enid and settled in the laboratory. He prepared the ingredients and then pointed his wand at the window.

"_Fenestram occulto_," he said.

The window shrank until it completely disappears and was replaced by a wall. Now the only light in the room was the one scattered by the candles. Indeed, the potion had to be brewed sheltered from the sunlight. After several hours of work, Harry stirred the potion one last time, put out the fire under the cauldron and put a lid on it. He took the solar concentrator he had covered with a piece of dark linen and went out into the garden. The sky was clear and the weather was perfect for what Harry had to do. The boy glanced at his watch. It was still early. Harry sat down and waited when he heard Nyx's hoot. The owl dropped a letter on the boy's lap and went to perch on a nearby tree. Harry immediately recognized Hermione's handwriting. He read the letter and could not help but smile. Hermione had just returned from her trip to Italy with her parents and she would visit him the next day.

Harry glanced at his watch again and slipped the letter into his pocket. It was time. He got up, removed the linen that covered the lens and held the concentrator under the sun. The light gradually drifted from the lens to the bulb and when it was filled, Harry quickly returned to the lab. He lit the fire under the cauldron, lifted the lid, unscrewed the light bulb and poured the light into his potion. It illuminated the room with a golden glow, and Harry stirred it eight times clockwise before grabbing the dagger and slicing his forearm. Blood ran into the cauldron and the potion instantly changed colour and turned bright red. Harry stirred it five times clockwise and seven more times anticlockwise until it turned back to a golden colour. He put the lid back on. Now he had to wait one whole week before adding his blood to the preparation a second time.

* * *

The next morning Harry was waiting for Hermione on Oak Lane where they had agreed to meet. There was a crack and the Knight Bus appeared in the street. Hermione got out of the bus and waved to Harry with a big smile. The Knight Bus disappeared with another loud crack.

"Is it here?" she asked in a voice loud enough to cover the noise of cars passing on the expressway.

"No," replied Harry. "We'll have to walk for a bit."

Once in Milton End, they stopped in front of the gate and Harry pulled out his wand. The boy brought it to the lock when Hermione stopped him.

"Don't!" She shouted. "Harry, we can't do magic outside of Hogwarts."

"Don't worry," he replied with a smile. "I won't be casting any spell. I just want the rune on the lock to recognize my wand."

He illustrated his last sentence by placing the end of his wand on the lock. There was a click and the gate opened. He motioned for Hermione to enter, followed her and closed the gate behind them.

"Now we can do magic," he added.

"Are you sure?" she asked.

"Positive, the protective enchantments are too powerful, the Ministry can't detect us in here."

They walked silently towards the front door and Harry guided Hermione into the living room.

"There we are," he announced. "Let me introduce you to Enid Akenham. Enid, this is Hermione Granger."

"Good morning, madam," replied the girl.

"Hello Hermione," said the painting. "Please call me Enid. Harry told me a lot about you, I heard you are a very good student. I must confess that I am delighted to be able to teach you my Art."

Hermione blushed and glanced at Harry.

"I can't wait to start," she replied. "And I can't believe Necromancy is prohibited in Hogwarts. It's such an interesting subject."

At that moment her eyes fell on Midnight, curled up in an armchair.

"Oh," she exclaimed. "Is it an _inferus_?"

"Yes, it is," replied Harry. "I called it Midnight."

"Harry, that's impressive. You have to teach me how to do it," she said to Enid as the cat sat up, stretched and meowed.

"It's not difficult," replied the portrait. "All you need to do is follow the instructions in the book."

"Harry, are you making it do that?" asked Hermione as Midnight rubbed her leg.

"Right now I just want him to behave like a cat, but I can also give him orders and make him do all kind of things. There is even an extra ritual that allows you to see through its eyes, but the spell is quite complex and I have trouble maintaining the connection for a long time."

"Could you show me the book?" asked Hermione.

"Sure, it's in the lab," said Harry. "At first it's easier with a small animal. I can send Midnight if you want."

"I think I'd like something that can fly," said Hermione.

It did not take long for Midnight to come back with its prey in its mouth and now Hermione watched with a satisfied smile the common raven getting back on its feet. The _inferus_ spread its wings and took off, forcing Harry and Hermione to duck. The bird grazed the ceiling of the laboratory and perched on the edge of a cauldron.

"That's wicked," she exclaimed. "I would love to try this ritual that allows you to see through its eyes: _Per oculos carnis morticinae_. I can't wait to see the world from the sky."

"You can see the world from the sky when you're on a broom, you know?" asked Harry, frowning.

"You know very well that I don't like being on a broom," she said. "But there I have nothing to fear since my feet won't be leaving the ground."

Hermione turned a few pages from _Secrets of the Darkest Art_ and grabbed the dagger. The beginning of the ritual was not difficult. She used her blood to draw a rune on the raven's head and another on each of her eyelids. She chanted the incantation and the runes illuminated briefly before disappearing. Hermione pointed her wand at the raven.

"_Per inferum video_," she said.

Keeping the connection was difficult and Harry and Hermione practised the spell together. Then Hermione explored all the books that crowded the shelves in the lab as well as in the living room. After lunch, they each made their selection of books and settled in the armchairs.

"Tell me, Harry," said Hermione finally. "Did you make any progress in your research to find out how Voldemort isn't totally dead?"

"I found a ritual called _Animæ ligare_," replied Harry, lifting his nose from his book. "It allows you to link your soul to another one. If you ever die, your soul doesn't go beyond the veil but clings to that person. Voldemort would have linked his soul to one of his Death Eaters and when his body died, his soul went to possess the Death Eater."

"It's an interesting theory, but I found something else."

"What's that ?"

"It's called a Horcrux. The ritual consists of splitting one's soul into several parts and anchoring one part into an object or a person."

Harry closed his book and came to read over Hermione's shoulder. She opened her notebook and started taking notes on the subject.

"I hope that what Edward knows about Voldemort will help us sort out our theories," said Harry finally.

"Do you need some help with the potion?" asked Hermione.

"No, I've just got to add my blood again next week."

"By the way, next week's your birthday. Do you have any plan?"

Harry frowned. His summer had been particularly busy and his birthday had been his last concern. Especially since he had never had anyone to celebrate with.

"I'll bring you a cake," added Hermione as she noticed the boy's uncertainty.

"A cake? Do you want to come for my birthday?" asked Harry surprised.

"Yes, unless you don't want me to..." she answered softly.

"No! I mean yes! You can come," he replied hastily.

"Okay, I'll come then."

"But, are your parents okay with you coming here?"

"Oh yes, don't worry. You know, they work a lot and I spend most of my days alone at home reading during the holidays anyway. Besides they keep telling me that I should go out more often to meet people my age. And by the way, they want to meet you, I thought we could go together in Diagon Alley when we get our Hogwarts book list.

"Sure."

* * *

Harry was lying on his bed, his head resting on his crossed hands, his eyes fixed on the ceiling. He could not get rid of the smile on his lips as he thought back to the day's events. As agreed Hermione had visited him for his birthday. They had shared the cake she had brought and she had given him a duelling textbook. They had practised some new techniques and had spent the rest of the afternoon chilling under the sun in Milton End's garden.

Hermione had been the only person to wish him a happy birthday, and even the only person to write to him all summer long. But Harry was not complaining, no one had ever wished him his birthday before. He stood up, opened the closet, and pulled out one of Dudley's old comic book. He settled on his bed and began to read.

_Pop_

Harry startled. He was now facing a house-elf. The creature stared for a moment at him with his large, globular eyes, then bowed and his pointed nose almost touched the floor.

"Harry Potter?" squeaked the elf. "Dobby dreamed of meeting Harry Potter for so long. It's such a great honour."

"Er..." hesitated Harry. "What are you doing here? Why did your master send you?"

"The master doesn't know Dobby's here, Harry Potter," squeaked the elf, shuddering. "Dobby will have to punish himself severely for coming to see you."

"You should go back to your master then."

"But Dobby must warn Harry Potter."

"What do you need to warn me about?"

"It's difficult..." began the elf. "Dobby came to protect Harry Potter. Harry Potter mustn't return to Hogwarts."

"What are you talking about?" snapped Harry, suddenly getting up from the bed.

The elf startled and stepped back.

"If Harry Potter returns to Hogwarts, he'll be in some mortal danger," added Dobby.

"I've been in some mortal danger last year already and I survived," retorted the boy.

"But this will be terrible."

"More terrible than confronting Voldemort?"

"Don't say his name," moaned the elf, putting his hands on his ears.

"I had to fight Voldemort a second time a few months ago," explained Harry.

"But it will be horrible, and Harry Potter mustn't be at Hogwarts when these things happen."

"What's going to happen?"

"Dobby can't speak..." moaned the elf, starting to sob.

"Hush," cut off Harry. "You don't want the Muggles to hear you, don't you?"

"Harry Potter must promise Dobby he won't go back to Hogwarts."

"I won't promise anything to you, and if you can't talk about what's going on then get back to your master and leave me alone."

Harry sat back down on the bed and resumed his reading. He waited a few minutes before lifting his eyes from his comic book. The elf still had not moved. The boy's attention went back to his reading. After several minutes, Harry snapped the comic book close.

"You know you can't stay here forever," said Harry. "Your master will eventually notice you're gone and you'll have to explain yourself. You're a house-elf you've got to serve your master. If he didn't send you to me, you've got nothing to do here."

The elf froze and an expression of terror crossed his face.

"No," asserted the elf, pulling himself together. "Harry Potter must promise Dobby that he won't go back to Hogwarts."

"I won't change my mind," sighed Harry.

"But why does Harry Potter want to go back to Hogwarts?"

"Why? Because this house isn't home, and it will never be. The only place I feel at home is Hogwarts, I've got friends there."

"Friends who don't write to Harry Potter?"

"How…?"

At that moment, Dobby pulled out a bundle of letters from the pillowcase he was wearing. Harry instantly recognized Terry's handwriting on one of them. Then he thought about it. How could the elf get his mail when he had been able to receive Hermione's letters? The answer came to him then. Dobby only intercepted the letters that were delivered to Privet Drive, he could not intercept those arriving at Milton End's house. His secret was not compromised, it was a relief. The elf had to remain ignorant which meant Harry could not use Midnight to retrieve his letters. Well...or he could use Midnight to get rid of Dobby forever.

Harry's summer had started so nicely, but now things were getting out of hand. The boy sighed. Maybe if he totally ignored the elf, things would go back to normal. He reopened his comic book. After a few minutes, there was a pop and Dobby was gone, carrying with him the bundle of letters.

* * *

The next morning Harry got up early and had a quick breakfast He did not want to take the risk of being followed and it was at that moment that he fully appreciated the idea he had to always carry his invisibility cloak in his backpack. He left the house, invisible, before his uncle and his aunt got up. Once outside, he observed his surroundings. Was Dobby hiding somewhere to intercept every owl that came near the house? Harry headed towards Lower Woodside without seeing the elf. He only took off his cloak once he had reached his destination and the gate was firmly closed behind him. He rushed into the house and hastened to tell Enid about his meeting with Dobby.

"It's very strange, indeed," commented Enid. "House Elves don't behave like that usually."

"For a moment, I thought it could just be a joke from someone at Hogwarts," he suggested. "But it seemed a little big. If only I had found a way to make him tell me what was going on at Hogwarts."

"It wouldn't have worked if he had this information from his master. The magic that binds the elves to their masters is too powerful and it prevents them from revealing the secrets of the family they serve."

"What should I do then?"

"Nothing."

"But ...", replied Harry indignantly.

"I assure you there's nothing to do for now," explained the portrait. "You can't take the risk of using magic outside this house and the elf must keep ignoring this place. As long as it remains this way, you have the advantage."

"All right," conceded Harry. "And I'll keep using the cloak to come here, it's the sensible thing to do. I need to write to Hermione to tell her."

* * *

Hermione kept on visiting Harry during the summer. Surprisingly, his letter from Hogwarts had not been intercepted by the elf and a few days later he had met Hermione and her parents on Diagon Alley. They had met Terry at Mrs Guipure's and Harry had to explain to him why he could not answer his letters.

Now, Harry poured the contents of his cauldron into several vials. The brewing of _Lux tenebris_ was complete and the potion had turned a dark red colour that emitted a faint glow. The boy sealed the bottles and put them in his cloak pocket along with Midnight and left for London.

Edward was waiting for Harry in front of the same storefront and nodded to him. The boy was about to greet him when his eyes caught the two wizards who were heading towards the Laughing Ghoul. He recognized Snape immediately. However, Harry did not know the wizard who was walking beside him. Snape glanced at the boy and the vampire before disappearing into the tavern.

"We can't have this conversation in the tavern," Harry told him.

"No, we can't," said Edward, giving Harry his arm.

Harry took a deep breath and grabbed the vampire's arm. Knockturn Alley swirled around them and Harry felt sucked in. He caught his breath as his feet anchored firmly in the sand beneath them. Edward had just brought them to the same place as last time. However, this time he guided Harry on the narrow path that snaked between two dunes.

"Who was the wizard with Snape?" asked Harry.

"Mulciber," replied Edward. "Let's say he enjoys using the _Imperius_, and he found a way to stay out of Azkaban."

"Mmh..."

"But don't worry, you're not his type. He prefers young girls."

The path stopped and they arrived on the beach. They settled on the rocks and Harry took out a jar in which he had enclosed a blue ball flame to give them some light.

"Show me the potion first," demanded Edward.

Harry took out a bottle from his pocket and handed it to the vampire. Edward seized it and carefully examined its contents. He gave a satisfied nod and put the bottle in his pocket. He did the same with the other bottles that Harry gave him.

"Now tell me everything you know about Voldemort," demanded Harry.

"What do you want me to begin with?" asked Edward. "By our first meeting? his real name, or maybe you want to know what made me think twice before joining him?"

"Start with the beginning."

"I met Tom in 1945," began Edward.

"Tom?"

"Tom Riddle."

"Riddle?"

"Yes, and as you just realized, this isn't a wizarding name."

"But, wasn't Voldemort a Pureblood?"

"You understand why he chose to call himself Voldemort and wanted to keep his real name a secret. At that time I was making a living from a bit of smuggling. It was the end of the war and trading with the continent had become easier again. Some countries have much more permissive laws regarding the trade of dark magic items. I was mainly dealing with Borgin and Burke. And it turned out that that year they'd just hired Tom. He'd just left Hogwarts and he had an interested in historical magical items. He was very charismatic and very attractive. He knew it and used it to conclude his deals. And then one day he disappeared.

"Disappeared?"

"Actually, he went abroad. This happened just after he failed to retrieve certain objects. Or at least that's what Borgin thinks."

"But ?"

"Borgin had sent Tom to the old Hepziba Smith, whom he thought had many valuable objects that belonged to Helga Hufflepuff. Mrs Smith was her last direct descendant. Finally, Tom informed Borgin that Mrs Smith had refused to sell him these items. A few days later, Tom disappeared as the old witch was found dead at her home. An accident according to the Daily Prophet. After that Tom stayed out of the country for ten years. I got wind of his travels in Europe by my contacts on the continent. He called himself Voldemort already. Then he returned to Britain and gathered his Death Eaters. He was unrecognizable and no one then made the connection between him and Tom, the boy he was before."

"But you were able to recognize him?"

"I'm a vampire, I immediately recognized him although he was not entirely human anymore."

"What do you mean by not entirely human anymore?"

"It's hard to explain, I could feel some part of his humanity was missing. He wasn't a vampire or another creature, I'm sure of that. I could already feel it when I met him in 1945 but this time it was stronger, and above all, it was visible from everyone else."

"And what happened after that ?"

"After that, he started recruiting politically influential wizards and witches, his Death Eaters' ranks grew and then he went on with his terror policy to bend those who resisted him. As far as I was concerned, I got a job in Romania in 1969. The Dark Lord sent emissaries to the continent to recruit werewolves and vampires. This job was an opportunity I couldn't miss, so I stayed in Romania for the time being. However, in 1980 my contract wasn't renewed and I had to come back to the UK. A vampire named Stein approached me to ask me to join the Dark Lord. I didn't. And then You-Know-Who was defeated by a one-year-old baby named Harry Potter."

* * *

Harry was busy putting his clothes together and tucking them into his backpack. He was expected for lunch at the Granger's and he had to go to Milton End first so he could get his trunk and Nyx before taking the Knight Bus to London. Hermione's parents had invited Harry to spend the last two days of the holidays at home when they met him on Diagon Alley.

Harry closed his bag when he heard a pop and saw Dobby appearing in the centre of the room. Harry thought he would never see the elf again when he did not come back to find him in August. The boy let out a sigh. Dobby did not come to him at the right time.

"Dobby came back to see Harry Potter," he said, bowing.

"What do you want now?" demanded Harry tiredly.

"Harry Potter must promise not to return to Hogwarts."

"I won't promise anything," replied Harry, sitting down on his bed. "How long are you planning to stay today?"

"But it's important that Harry Potter stays away from Hogwarts, the danger will be terrible."

"You've already told me this. You just have to tell me what's going on. And so you know, the only real danger is the unknown. Tell me what's meant to happen."

"There ... There's a plot ..."

And on this last word the elf burst into tears. He grabbed the bedside lamp and slammed it violently and repeatedly on his head. Then Harry heard footsteps coming from the hallway and the door was burst opened. Aunt Petunia squealed when she saw the elf. Dobby froze, dropped the lamp and disappeared with a pop.

"Harry!" yelled his aunt. "How dare you bring such monster under my roof?"

"I didn't bring him here," he replied. "He just appeared in my room."

"You are the one I want to see disappear," she roared.

"I will. See you next summer."

* * *

It was half-past ten when Harry and the Grangers arrived at the entrance to platform 9 ¾. They stopped on the side and let a group pass and disappear through the barrier.

"It was nice to meet you, Harry," said Mrs. Granger with a smile.

"Thank you for having me," he replied. "Goodbye Mrs Granger, Mr Granger."

"Bye, Harry."

Harry waited for Hermione to say goodbye to her parents and then pushed his trolley towards the barrier. He glanced behind his shoulder and saw that Hermione had stopped to wave one last time at her parents. He looked again in front of him ... and with a deafening crash, the trolley violently hit the barrier.


	6. 6 - Threats on Hogwarts

**6 - Threats on Hogwarts**

Hermione managed to stop her trolley before colliding with Harry.

"Harry," she exclaimed, barely managing to cover Nyx's frantic cheeping. "What happened ?"

"I don't know, I couldn't go through the barrier," he replied, straightening his owl's cage.

"I'll try," she said.

Harry stepped aside and let her pass but her trolley was also stopped by the barrier.

" Is there a problem ?" asked Mr Granger.

Hermione's response was interrupted when a group of students came by.

"What's going on here?" asked a boy.

"We can't go through the barrier," replied Hermione.

"Let me try," said a witch who must have been the boy's mother.

The witch walked towards the barrier. When she noticed the passage was indeed closed, she took out her wand and tapped it on various places on the barrier. Now a large group of people had gathered. Harry looked at his watch: ten to eleven. A thin, near-bold, red-haired man walked through the crowd.

"Hello Beth, is everything all right here?" he asked.

"Oh, hello, Arthur," replied the witch. "We have a problem."

She explained the situation to him and the wizard tried, in turn, to use his wand on the barrier.

"There's nothing to do," he said, shaking his head.

"I'm going to the Ministry," said Beth. "But I'm afraid it's already too late. We won't be able to delay the train departure."

"Good idea, I'll send word to Hogwarts. In the meantime, it'd be best to leave the station before catching the Muggles' attention. Percy, watch over your sister."

Beth and Arthur disappeared into the crowd. It was eleven past fifteen when they returned to announce that they hadn't been able to delay the Hogwarts Express. The students had to get to the Leaky Cauldron where they would be able to floo to school. The first group of students left for the pub. Harry and Hermione left with the next one. When they arrived at the Leaky Cauldron, the students had started to form a line in front of the imposing fireplace.

"What do you think happened with the barrier?" asked Hermione.

"I think the elf tried to stop me from going back to Hogwarts," said Harry thoughtfully.

"It's a bit farfetched. Don't you think ?"

"I know. But, look, the barrier worked fine until I tried to go through it. I saw the group walking in front of us go through the barrier without a problem."

"Do you think the elf was telling the truth? That there really is something dangerous waiting for us at Hogwarts?"

"I don't know. But after what happened last year, we should be careful."

Harry and Hermione arrived later in one of the Great Hall's large fireplaces. They greeted Professor Flitwick who wrote the names of the students on a long piece of parchment. Then they dropped their luggage along the wall from where the trunks disappeared one after the other to reappear in the dormitories. Only two tables had been set for lunch. Padma and Parvati were seated a little further away and waved at them.

"Hello Padma, hello Parvati," greeted Harry, taking a seat next to Hermione and opposite the two sisters.

"Were you two blocked by the barrier too?" asked Hermione.

"Yes," replied Parvati, "and our parents to drop us to Hogwarts."

"Really ?" asked Harry.

"We Apparated from London to Hogsmeade and they walked us to the castle," replied Parvati, horrified. "Do you realize? They could have left us at the gate."

"I think they were right," interrupted Padma. "You heard what dad said. It could have been some dark wizards' doing, planning on attacking students. It could have been dangerous."

"Do you think ?" asked Hermione worried, exchanging a look with Harry.

"I don't know," replied Padma. "Dad talked about the war, he said that even You-Know-Who had failed to attack either Hogwarts or the Hogwarts Express but there are still wizards who are loyal to him. That it could be an attack."

"But we're safe at Hogwarts," assured Parvati. "There's nothing to fear with Dumbledore here and with our new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher."

"Do you know who's the new teacher?" asked Harry.

"Gilderoy Lockhart himself," she replied, a big smile on her face.

"He announced it during his book signing," said her sister.

"Oh," exclaimed Hermione. "I've already read all of his books. It's a shame we missed the signing session."

"Of course you've already read all of his books," said Parvati.

"Don't listen to her," reassured Padma. "She's read them too already."

"He lived so many adventures and he's so brave," exclaimed Parvati, her voice was full of admiration.

"And he has such beautiful eyes," continued Padma.

"Uh ..." started Harry with uncertainty, looking at the three girls.

"He's so attractive," added Hermione with a dreamy sigh.

"What?" exclaimed Harry. "I thought you were going to bring some constructive criticism to his work, not talk about ... that!"

Hermione startled and looked at him as if she had just remembered he was there. Her cheeks took on a bright red colour and she quickly looked down at her plate.

"You're right," said Hermione, her eyes still on her plate. "Do you think he'll make a good teacher?"

"I hope so," he replied. "I think his books lack details, especially when it comes to the practical approach of spells he used. I wrote down a few questions. I look forward to hearing from the author himself."

* * *

Dumbledore was sitting at his desk. A fire was crackling softly in the hearth. He glanced at the clock: ten-thirty. Three sharp knocks were given on the door.

"Come in," he called.

The door opened and Snape came in.

"You wanted to see me, Albus?" said the Potion Master.

"Please, sit down Severus," replied the Headmaster.

Snape took a seat in one of the armchairs facing the desk. He shook his head when Dumbledore presented him with some candy.

"Have you seen the Necromancer since our last chat?" asked Albus.

"I only met him once this summer but according to my contacts he was spotted many times in Knockturn Alley."

"Did he make other victims?"

"Not to my knowledge."

"Do you have any clues regarding his activities, his intentions or his identity?"

"No, I don't. He's always very discreet. However, he seems to be in contact with a vampire who goes by the name of Edward Whitley. Other than that he has very few contacts."

"Whitley? Was he in Tom's ranks?"

"No. Whitley's just a smuggler of little influence."

"Well, well…" continued Dumbledore with a serious look. His hands were clasped in front of him. "Severus, I would like you to keep an eye on your Slytherins."

"Do you seriously think the Necromancer is one of them?" asked Snape dryly.

"You already know that one of them is a descendant of the Necromancers."

"You can't believe it's him? He's twelve."

"I don't know Severus, but I'm worried. Especially after what happened at King's Cross this morning."

"He managed to get on board," interrupted Snape.

"It might have been to cover his true intentions," replied Dumbledore. "And before you interrupt me again, I know full well that this morning's incident may have nothing to do with the Necromancer. Some of your old _acquaintances_ might have tried to attack the students."

"A pity I wasn't invited."

"Now, isn't the time, Severus. We must be grateful all the students have returned safe and sound."

"How went your meeting with Fudge?"

"He ordered an investigation. The Aurors have no leads for now."

"Don't tell me it surprises you?" snarled Snape disdainfully.

"And that's why I need you, Severus," replied the Headmaster not taking note of the teacher's retort. "When we had to set up the floo connection with London, the wards were weakened. Anything could have entered the school. Tom managed to get in last year under our nose and another threat has emerged in the meantime. We have to be vigilant."

" Fine. I'll keep my eyes open."

* * *

Harry had hopes. Hopes of having a competent Defence professor. Unfortunately, these hopes were crushed on the second day of class. Harry arrived early at his Defence class and he was the first to enter the classroom. He was putting his books on the table when Lockhart came to stand in front of him.

"Ah, Harry Potter!" he exclaimed with his trademark smile. "Finally, we meet. Ah, Harry, Harry, Harry. I must admit that I didn't expect to see you in Ravenclaw."

"Uh..."

"Don't think it's a bad thing. I am delighted to see that you are a member of my former House. I think you're perfectly right to dedicate your young years to your education. You'll have plenty of time to go on adventures later on. But I know the faults of Ravenclaw house and you shouldn't stay all day in your books. There's nothing like real-life experience to shape a wizard."

"Yes, I..." tried to answer Harry.

"I don't want to brag, but I'm myself, what you could call, a man of action and a defence expert. And I'd like to offer you private lessons if you want to."

"Thank you, it's…"

"But I'm also ready to offer you advice in other areas. You are famous Harry and if you want my opinion, you shouldn't neglect this aspect of your life. It could be very useful once you leave Hogwarts. And I know it can be difficult to manage celebrity. Harry, I solemnly tell you today, if you need advice I'm here for you."

"Thank you, sir."

"No, Harry, don't thank me."

By the time their conversation was over, the other students entered the classroom. Lockhart began the lesson by giving them a test to complete. It was the dumbest and the most irrelevant test Harry had ever had to complete. After that, the second part of the lesson was devoted to the re-enactment of a chapter of _Travels with_ _Trolls_. Harry wanted to ask some of the questions he had but he ended up playing the troll.

* * *

Harry had just left the Great Hall with Hermione. They were about to climb the stairs towards the library when a young boy stopped at their side. He wore some Gryffindor robes and held a camera.

"Hello Harry, I'm Colin Crivey. Can I take a picture?" he asked without catching his breath.

"A picture?" asked Harry without understanding.

"Of you. To prove that I met you. I know everything about you, how you killed You-Know-Who, your scar, everything. It'd be great if I could have a picture of you, so I'd send it to my parents. They're muggles, you see. Do you think your friend could take the picture? So I'd be with you on it. Oh, and would you like to sign it for me?"

"What..?" started Harry puzzled.

But then Lockhart appeared at the bottom of the stairs.

"Did I hear right?" asked the professor. "Harry, are you signing pictures?"

"NO! I…" replied Harry vehemently.

"That's such a great idea. And you know what is an even better idea? Let's make it a double portrait! We'll both sign the picture for you. What do you say Mr Crivey?"

"I'm not sure…" said Harry.

But Harry couldn't finish his sentence. Lockhart came to stand next to him, one hand on his shoulder, and Harry was suddenly dazzled by the camera flash.

"Thank you, Harry, thank you, Professor," said Colin smiling widely before leaving for the Great Hall.

"Ah, Harry, Harry, Harry," began Lockhart.

He turned to face the boy and put one hand on each of Harry's shoulders.

"I blame myself, you know," he went on. "I know it's my fault. This is all because of the chat we had about celebrity. Harry, Harry, Harry ... It was much better for me to be with you on the picture. Otherwise, your friends would have thought that you were looking to put yourself forward. A little advice, signing picture at this stage of your career isn't very wise. But the day will come when, like me, you'll always need to carry pictures of yourself in your pockets. But I think you're not there yet. And don't forget, I'm here if you need advice."

"Thank you, but I have to go to the library," replied Harry hastily, wanting to flee the teacher's company as soon as possible.

"Oh, yes, of course," said Lockhart with a smile. "See you, Harry."

The professor turned on his heel and left for the Great Hall.

"Do you think I can have a picture too?" teased Hermione.

"This isn't funny," said Harry defensively. "I don't want to sign pictures."

"I know," she replied, laughing. "You should have seen your face."

"I thought we could practice duelling this afternoon," he said to change the subject of the conversation.

"Great idea," she replied.

* * *

September went quickly and calmly. The only downside was Harry's new "fan club": Colin Crivey who followed him everywhere and took his picture constantly, and Ginny Weasley who, when she wasn't with Colin, spied Harry in the library. He had caught her several times. She was sitting at a table hidden behind a book. When she felt Harry's eyes on her, she left the library, running, her face a bright red colour and her book forgotten behind her.

But it was from the end of October that a series of strange events took place. The first one occurred one evening when Harry was walking back to the Ravenclaw tower with Terry.

_So hungry ... waited for so long ..._

Harry froze and motioned for Terry to stay quiet. The voice seemed to move. Harry rushed into the corridor, leaving one startled Terry behind him.

_I smell blood ... kill..._

Then as suddenly as it appeared, the voice disappeared.

"_Hominem revelio_," cast Harry.

But, except for and Terry, the corridor was empty.

"Uh, Harry?" asked Terry. "Is everything alright?"

"Did you hear it?" replied Harry hastily.

"Heard what?"

"A voice. It was right here"

"No, I didn't."

Terry was now looking at him with a worried expression.

"You're right, it must have been the wind," justified Harry quickly.

The second strange event happened on the morning of October the 31st. Harry had left his dormitory before dawn. He had gone, hidden under his invisibility cloak, to the edge of the Forbidden Forest where he had picked up the ingredients he needed. He then headed towards the vegetable plots that lay near Hagrid's hut. He hoped to find a few nightshade berries growing along the vegetable rows. Harry stepped between two rows of pumpkins and then froze. There was someone walking towards him. He followed the figure with his eyes. He then recognized Ginny Weasley. Her eyes were fixed on the horizon and she did not seem to register what was around her. The girl turned towards the henhouse. Intrigued, Harry walked around the pumpkins and followed her. He stopped at a good distance when Ginny stopped in front of one of the pens.

"_Immobilus_," she said in the direction of the hens.

She put her wand away opened the door, and walk across the enclosure. She stopped suddenly and grabbed the rooster by the neck. She put her other hand a little higher on the animal. There was a sharp crack when she broke its neck. She dropped the animal, which fell limply to the ground, turned around and left the enclosure. Then she did the same in the nearby enclosure. Harry was absolutely still. He didn't dare to move until Ginny was back to the castle and far away enough.

Harry didn't have to wait for long to see the third strange event. The same evening, after the Halloween feast, he left the Great Hall with Padma, Terry and Hermione. It was still early and they had time to do part of the way with Hermione before leaving for the Ravenclaw tower. A small group of Gryffindor students preceded them on the grand staircase chatting and heckling. There were only a few steps left to climb for Harry when he heard it again.

_It's time to kill..._

He stopped and turned sharply in the direction of the voice. But there was no one.

"Harry?" called Hermione from the second-floor landing.

He pulled himself together and walked quickly towards her. He was still listening but the only voices he could hear now were those of Padma and Terry and those of the students who walked in front of them and who had just disappeared around the corner. Then there was complete silence. When they, in turn, reached the nearby corridor, a crowd had formed there. All eyes were on the same section of wall. An inscription in red letters had been written there. Harry could not make out the words where he stood. He managed to come nearer and he froze. The corridor was partly flooded. The large puddle was reflecting the dancing light from the torches. On the wall he could read:

_THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED_

_ENEMY OF THE HEIR, BEWARE_

Mrs Norris hung stiffly by its tail from the nearby sconce. Harry turned and went back to his friends. He was in the middle of telling what he had seen when the teachers arrived.

"Stand aside," said Professor McGonagall sternly.

She made her way between the students followed by Dumbledore and Filch.

"What happened to my cat?" cried Filch. "My cat was murdered. I want the culprit punished."

The whispers doubled among the students despite Dumbledore's reassuring words. The other teachers arrived and the students were sent back to their dormitories.

* * *

The archives were in a separate room from the library. Harry and Hermione were the only students there. Centuries of newspapers and yearbooks were lined up on the shelves. Harry was sitting at a table, a yearbook opened before him. Tom Riddle had not been hard to find. Harry looked at the black and white picture again, but he had another idea in mind. His parents, they had to be here too, in these records.

"Did you find something else?" asked Hermione.

She was seated at another table. Old issues of the _Daily Prophet_ were spread before her.

"I found Riddle," he replied. "I wonder if my parents are here."

Hermione replied something but Harry was not listening to her. His eyes travelled to the edges of the books. The shelves creaked. There was some movement above Harry's head that caught his eye. He quickly looked up. His cry of surprise died in his throat. The bookcase was collapsing. He saw the books falling. Then the world went black.

* * *

He was in pain. It was the first thought that crossed Harry's mind when he regained consciousness. He could hear voices around him. He tried to open his eyes but the light was too bright. It made him feel like his head was going to split in two.

"Everything's fine, Mr Potter," said Madam. Pomfrey's voice, which seemed to come from the bottom of a deep well.

He sank into darkness again. When he opened his eyes, the matron was leaning over him.

"How are you feeling, Mr Potter?" she asked.

"In pain...," he replied with a groan.

"Quite understandable given the extent of your injuries. I'll be right back with a potion."

"Is it serious?"

"Broken collarbone, dislocated shoulder, and a concussion," she explained. She helped Harry sitting up and gave him a potion vial. "Nothing I can't cure. You'll be fine. But I warn you right away, you won't be leaving this place for a few days."

Harry drank the potion and sank back into his pillow. In a few moments, the heat of the potion spread through his limbs and he dozed off.

_Pop_

Harry opened his eyes. He was still in bed, in the hospital wing. There was a candle on his bedside table. Harry saw it's weak light and the dancing shadows it created on the ceiling. He turned slowly and startled when he saw a pair of big, protruding eyes watching him.

"Dobby?" he whispered as he sat up.

"Harry Potter shouldn't have come back to Hogwarts," the elf whispered. "Dobby warned Harry Potter."

"Oh, no," Harry cut him in dismay. "Don't start with that nonsense again."

"Why didn't Harry Potter go back home after he missed the train?"

"So it was you, I knew it. You made some big mess by blocking the barrier. Do you know the Ministry's investigating?"

"Yes, Dobby knows and after that Dobby had to burn his hands with an iron," announced the elf, showing him his fingers wrapped in bandages.

"The danger you told me about, does it have anything to do with the Chamber of Secrets?" asked Harry.

"Dobby can't say anything."

"Well, let me tell you what I know. If the Slytherin heir is at Hogwarts and if he wants to follow his ancestor's path, chances are he's targeting muggle-borns. But I'm no muggle-born so I'm not directly threatened. And so there's no reason for me to leave Hogwarts."

"No, no, Harry Potter must understand, it's dangerous. Harry Potter has to go home. Dobby thought the library incident would be enough, but ..."

But the elf didn't manage to finish his sentence. Harry grabbed him by the pillowcase he was wearing.

"So that was your doing too," he exclaimed in a furious whisper. "Did you try to kill me? I thought you wanted to protect me."

"Dobby thought that if Harry Potter were badly injured, they would send him home," the elf said timidly.

"It's over now, Dobby."

Harry let go of the elf's pillowcase and forcefully grabbed the creature's neck. Dobby yelped in surprise. Harry slid his other hand under his pillow and drew his wand, which he pointed at the elf's head.

"I don't have the patience to play riddles with you," he went on. "So you're going to talk. You're going to tell me who's after me. That way I can kill them before I get killed, by them or by you."

The elf's hands tried in vain to loosen Harry's grip and an expression of terror crossed his eyes.

_Pop._

Dobby was gone. Harry sighed and sank back onto his pillow. He had a headache again. He was too angry to fall back asleep right now. He remained for some long minutes contemplating the ceiling.

In an instant, he was out of bed, wand in hand.

_I can smell the blood ..._

The voice. It was back. It was there, so close.

"_Lumos_," said Harry, walking through the hospital wing.

He pointed his wand in the voice's direction.

"_Hominem revelio_"

But there was no one.

_It's time to kill ..._

The voice was moving away. Harry tried to follow it but it went silent. He slowly returned to his bed. He no longer knew what to think. Things were getting really strange.

Harry was about to go back to sleep when the door of the hospital wing opened. He quickly drew the covers over his head and turned towards the door. Dumbledore entered backwards. He was with Professor McGonagall. They carried what looked like a statue and placed it on a bed. Professor McGonagall quickly walked through the hospital wing and returned a few moments later with Madam Pomfrey.

"What happened ?" she whispered.

"There was another attack," said Dumbledore. "Minerva found Mr Crivey on the stairs."

"Petrified?"

"Yes."

Dumbledore then leaned over the boy and snatched the camera he was holding in his petrified hands.

"Albus," murmured Professor McGonagall. "Do you think he could have taken a picture of his attacker?"

The headmaster opened the device. A jet of steam came out, and a burning smell spread through the room.

"Albus?"

"The film has completely melted. Unfortunately, what I feared turned out to be true. The Chamber of Secrets has been opened again."

* * *

Madam Pomfrey let Harry leave the hospital wing two days later. He found Hermione in the archive room of the library. He began to tell her what he had learned from his first night in the hospital wing.

"Yes, I know," she said when Harry announced that the Chamber of Secrets had already been opened.

"How?" he asked.

"I came across the story by chance. I wanted to find out why Riddle received his reward. I went through the newspapers of that year."

"And?"

"It appeared that several students were petrified during the year, the same message was written on the wall. But this time a student died, a muggle-born girl. The article said they couldn't find the cause of death. It was quite the scandal. The headmaster at the time, a certain Dippet, was in very bad posture. They talked of shutting down Hogwarts. And that's where Riddle comes in. He solves the mystery, hunts down the monster and finds the culprit, and he receives his reward."

"Who was it?"

"This is where it gets really weird. Hagrid's the culprit. He was thirteen at the time and he was expelled for that. And the monster was an acromantula."

"It doesn't make sense," replied Harry. "When Hagrid told me there were acromantulas in the forest, I read about them. Their venom is deadly but I've read nowhere that they can petrify. And they should have found bite marks on the corpse. And Hagrid, the heir of Slytherin, really? The students who were petrified, did they confirm that this was what attacked them?"

"No," replied Hermione. "Only one of them agreed to give an interview for the _Prophet_. He didn't know what attacked him. He said he was attacked from behind. He remembers seeing the reflection in the window of something big standing behind him. That's all. And you want to know the worst? No one asked the other victims. No one has sought confirmation of Riddle's accusation."

"What if Riddle was the attacker then?"

"You think ?"

"Yes, why not? Voldemort makes no secret he wants to see all muggle-borns and squibs dead. He used Hogwarts as some sort of training field. Even if we can't prove he's Slytherin's descendant, he is the heir to his ideas."

"It's an interesting idea. And Hagrid?"

"He accused Hagrid so he could cover his tracks."

"And the Headmaster didn't question the accusation because if they couldn't find the culprit, he could lose his place and the school would be shut down."

"So we're looking for another monster."

* * *

Harry was disappointed. He had read with interest the parchment pinned to the notice board in the common room. A duelling club had just been created. Harry was practicing hard at duelling with Hermione but he was anxious to take on other opponents and to receive practical advice from experienced duellists. After all, Flitwick was a former champion of the discipline.

Unfortunately, when Harry entered the Great Hall, there was no sign of the Charms teacher. Lockhart, meanwhile, stood on the platform that had been erected in the centre of the room. Snape stood by him and Harry figured it might not be that bad. The Potions Master spent his classes ignoring Harry and taking points from him for absurd reasons, but at least he was a competent wizard.

"Come closer," said Lockhart. "Does everyone hears me? Does everyone see me? Perfect! Welcome. I will host this duelling club with my assistant, Professor Snape."

Lockhart went on his explanations under the murderous eyes of Snape and Harry concluded that Lockhart was really stupid not to run away. This feeling was confirmed when the Defence professor was ejected from the stage by a simple _expelliarmus_ and struck the wall before collapsing limply on the ground. When he got back to his feet, his hair stood on end, and his robes were wrinkled.

"Now it's your turn," said Lockhart when he reached the stage, tottering. "You are going to disarm your opponent, and I mean _disarm_, only."

With the help of Snape, he divided the students into teams of two. Harry disarmed his opponent on the first strike. Then he took the time to watch what was going on around him. It was chaos: spells flew in all directions and some thick smoke rose in a corner of the Great Hall. Then someone screamed. Harry turned to the sound and saw Hermione. She was wearing a satisfied smile on her face. Her opponent, a Slytherin girl, held her face in her hands, sobbing.

"Stop!" shouted Lockhart, who was losing control of the situation.

Snape walked over to Hermione and she quickly lost her smile.

"Ten points from Griffindor," said Snape. "Miss Parkinson, take Miss Busltrode to the hospital wing."

"I think I should teach you how to neutralize hostile spells first," said Lockhart back on the stage. "Let's have two volunteers. Mr Potter? And…"

"I would like to suggest a student from my house," Snape cut him off. "Mr Malfoy, come over here."

"Great idea," said Lockhart. "Harry, Mr Malfoy, over here please."

Harry sighed. He climbed onto the stage and joined the professor.

"This is what you are going to do," said Lockhart. "Draco will try to disarm you, Harry, and you will block the spell. Let me show you how."

The Professor took out his wand and performed a series of complicated movements until his wand slipped out of his hand.

"Thank you, professor, I got it," replied Harry hastily.

He didn't bother listening to what Lockhart was saying as he picked back up his wand. He walked over to his side of the stage. At the other end, Snape was whispering something into Malfoy's ear who then gave Harry a defiant look. The professor gave the signal and the boys raised their wands.

"_Serpensortia_!" cast Malfoy.

"_Protego_!" cast Harry.

Harry watched the long black snake come out of Malfoy's wand and fall onto the platform. The animal stood up and watched its environment. It was an interesting spell, Harry thought, but Malfoy could have used it better by throwing it at Harry instead of dropping it in the middle of the stage. The crowd of students backed away with cries of terror. Harry was tempted to throw the snake at Malfoy or at Lockhart but he changed his mind.

"_Where am I_?" hissed the snake.

Harry froze. He had just understood. Why hadn't he thought of this earlier?

"I'll take care of it," said Lockhart, who was standing behind Harry.

He walked toward the centre of the stage, but Harry still had his shield raised in front of him and the Professor collided with it. The action pulled Harry out of his musing. He lowered his shield and pointed his wand at the snake.

"_Confringo_!"

The snake exploded. The animal's half-charred shreds flew in the air and Malfoy cried out when some of it hit his face.

"_Expelliarmus_!"

Harry took Malfoy by surprise and the Slytherin's wand slipped out of his hand. The Ravenclaws quietly clapped as Malfoy glared at Harry and picked up his wand.

"Excellent!" said Lockhart. "Very good demonstration."

But Harry was not listening to him. He climbed down from the stage and spotted Hermione standing a little further.

"Come on, let's go," he whispered to her when he was by her side.

"But it's not over yet," she replied.

"I need to talk to you, it's important."

They quietly left the Great Hall and Harry checked that they were alone before speaking.

"I found it, I know what's in the Chamber of Secrets," he said hastily. "The monster is some sort of snake."

"A snake?" asked Hermione.

"According to the legend, only Slytherin was able to control the monster. He was the only parseltongue in Britain at the time. If the monster is a snake then he was sure he was the only one who could control it. And that's why I was the only one to hear it."

"You heard the monster?"

"I might not have told you everything. Right before they brought Colin to the hospital wing, I heard the monster. And before the attack on Mrs Norris too."

"And you're only telling me that now?"

"I was the only one to hear it!" replied Harry. "But above all, it means that Voldemort is also a parselmouth."

"Could he really be Slytherin's descendant?" asked Hermione.

"I don't know, he lived a thousand years ago, I'm not sure I'm his descendant myself."

"And now? Who opened the Chamber? Do you think it could be him again? Voldemort?"

"We can't throw this possibility out. He would have managed to possess someone. He could be using that person to open the Chamber. But last year I felt his presence. I haven't felt anything this year."


End file.
